


Running On Empty

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Addiction, Angst, Bloodplay, Bondage, Cravings, Dark, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Desire, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hot Sex, Humor, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Obsession, Romance, Self-Hatred, Sexy Times, Torture, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 151,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being rescued from hell, Dean is a broken man who is plagued not only by memories of the horrific things he's done, but also by lingering dark needs that he can't control. He can't sleep, for fear of the things he might do. He can't trust his brother, who has walked the dark side with Ruby. He can't feel, not when he's self medicating with liquor. For him, there is no hope, until he meets the vampire Spike under circumstances that might finish them both. Of course Spike could be Dean's own 'walk on the dark side.' Set in early season 4 of SPN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> Co-written with Brimstonegold

First it had been the damned ghost fever. Little girl Lilith had come calling, taunting him with promises and reminders of all the time he had spent in Hell and would again. Her voice still rang in his head with that deep throated "Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom," matching the increasing pace of his heart as all the memories of Hell swelled over him. That same heart had beat hard, as if trying to break free of his rib cage, while at the same time it felt as if it would freeze in his chest to match the icy fire of his blood. His heart had indeed stopped for just a moment before Sam and Bobby had destroyed the source of the ghost fever.

Then her simulacrum was gone, but her image lingered, and so did all the reminders she had recounted. When Sam asked him what fear the ghost fever had used that nearly killed him (though Sam never knew just how close) he'd told Sam he'd seen howler monkies. Sam knew he was lying of course. And Dean knew that Sam knew he was lying, but Sam hadn't pushed.

Then came Samhain and the breaking of the seal that they tried to save but failed. Castiel had tried to give him some reassurance, at least as best as Cas was able, but the angel kinda sucked at the whole human emotion empathy thing. Dean tried hard to forget the masks he had seen hanging in the art teacher's class room, masks that were recreations of the demons he had encountered in Hell. After those masks, after the angels and Sam's promises, it all but crushed what little was left inside him seeing Sam do the psychic crap. He watched Sam pull the spirit of Samhain out of the witch and send the evil spirit back to Hell. Apparently, to put the icing on the cake, that dick of an angel Uriel told Sam that Dean had done things in Hell. That he remembered Hell. 

Sam had pushed. Not hard, but at that particular point Dean was in no mood for any sort of pushing. It was the anniversary of their Mom's death, Sam was walking the dark path, the angels were losing, seals were breaking, and the only time Dean got something like a decent night's sleep was when he was so drunk he simply passed out. So no, he wasn't in any god-damned mood for Sam to be even remotely pushing him about what he remembered of Hell.

That was when he grabbed his coat and his duffel and told Sam he needed some space. At least he didn't tell Sam to fuck off, though he came damned close.

Sam had called him again and again on his cell phone and finally Dean picked up.

"Sam. Space. A couple days, a week. I'll be back, Dude. Just...space." He heard Sam start to apologize but Dean ended the call and shut the phone off. He didn't want to hear any fucking platitudes, he didn't want to talk to Sam about his dark mojo, and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about his time in Hell. No. He definitely did not want to talk about that. What they did to him. What he did to others. No. God, no. He could still feel the blood on his hands, guts spilling out as the person on the rack screamed while Dean tortured them, shredding them with tools, blades, and even fingernails and teeth. Ripping them apart for ten years. Every day, destroying, mutilating, hearing them scream and reveling in every fucking minute of it.

He could still feel the touch, the burned-in scar on his shoulder where Castiel had grabbed hold and yanked him away from his newest victim, a child. Children were a rarity in Hell, but this one had done in her whole family and looked just a little like the meatsuit Lilith had worn at one point. Her tears and screams were more precious than anything Dean could remember, and then he felt the burn and saw the blinding light, then nothing, not until he woke up in his own coffin. 

He'd been confused at first, things jumbled up inside of his mind and he wasn't entirely certain this wasn't a new game Alastair or Lilith was playing with him. It took him awhile to believe he was really out of Hell. He wasn't quite certain when that defining moment was. Maybe when he saw Bobby. Maybe when he hugged his brother, the brother that had changed so very much in what for Sam had been a mere few months and for Dean, forty years. 

Dean had sixty plus years of memory and two thirds of those were of the tortures of Hell. It wasn't any wonder he felt fucked-up beyond fucked up. No matter how many people he saved, he knew nothing would fill that empty black hole inside him and make him feel that he had made up for even the barest bit of tortures he had visited on those souls in Hell. Now he understood how demons were made. He understood it all too well. Another ten, twenty, fifty, hundred years...he would be a black-eyed sonuvabitch following Alastair around like Alastair's little puppy-dog hellhound, ready to tear apart anything Alastair told him to.

He couldn't even cry anymore. Hell had burned all his tears out of him. Almost everything had been burned out of him in Hell. Everything except his love for his brother. Now, though, his love for his brother was on the teetering edge of turning to ash. Sam had lied to Dean. He'd...failed Dean. Not that Sam really could have gotten him out of Hell, but they'd freed their Dad, dammit. But Sam hadn't freed him and maybe, just a little, a part of him blamed Sam for his long time spent in Hell. Worst of all, the real deal-breaker, was that Sam hadn't kept his promise of staying off the dark path. He was using his psychic crap and BFF with the demon Ruby. Just how BFF, Dean was afraid to ask 'cause he didn't really want to know if Sam was humping the bitch. 

Dean was just one royal fuck-up, plain and simple. Couldn't save his brother. Couldn't kill his brother. Couldn't live without his brother so he sold his soul. Couldn't keep his soul from going dark, from giving in and giving up after thirty years. Just thirty years. Oh, but God had work for him Cas said. What good was he to anyone? He functioned, he put on a good game face, but he was broken, barely holding himself together as everything ate him up from the inside out until there was nothing but this gaping hole festering with self-loathing and hate.

He was half a state away from Sam when he finally pulled off the road and into a little no-name town in Tennessee. The first bar he found, he pulled into. There was a motel next door. He could stagger over after tying one on, get a room, and finish off whatever was left of the bottle of whiskey in his duffel and pass out. Maybe he could sort shit out better in the morning. He looked between the bar and the motel. Shit. Better to get the room first.

He got the room for a couple nights and told them he wasn't sure how long he'd be staying. He might decide to get back on the road where he could get lost in the drive, or just spend a few days getting shitfaced and trying to deal with some of his demons without Sam constantly giving him his damned puppy-eyed looks of concern. After checking the charge on his phone and seeing Sam had left another half a dozen messages, he rolled his eyes and plugged the phone in to recharge. Tucking the room key in his pocket, he headed to the bar to get totally and completely shit-faced. If he found a busty, tight-assed girl to take his mind off of things for a couple hours, super. If not, then he and Mr. Jack Daniels would finish off the night together.

The bar was a little smoky, there was a juke box in the corner warbling country music, and containers of peanuts sat in little buckets on the tables and at the bar. The floor, unsurprisingly, was littered with empty shells that crunched under his boots, reminding him just a little too much of bones crunching underfoot. He approached the bar.

"Jack, neat, double," he said, laying a fifty on the bar. "Keep 'em coming."

The bartender, a burly man with red hair gave Dean a nod and poured him his drink. The man took the fifty and tucked it underneath the bottom of a glass, dropping two mixing straws into the glass. It was the easiest way for him to track how many drinks the stranger had and it didn't look like the man expected change which suited the bartender fine.

Dean looked around. There was a rowdy group in a corner booth drinking and laughing. Couples or singles were scattered about the bar, and mostly men sat on the barstools at the worn wooden bar. No busty waitress or good looking single woman anywhere in the bar. He eyed a dark haired woman looking over papers. She wasn't anything special to look at, but she wasn't bad by any means. Dean didn't really care if it gave him a place to stick his dick for the night. So long as she left before he fell asleep, it would all be good. He started toward her, then saw the thin gold ring on her finger. Crap. Shaking his head he returned to the bar. Best just to stay standing here, drinking and trying to forget, ridding his mind of their screams. Of his own screams.

*

He was drunk. Pretty thoroughly good and drunk. Maybe he would be able to sleep tonight. Though he wasn't sure if drunken unconsciousness really qualified as sleep. So long as he wasn't conscious enough to have dreams, he didn't give a shit. Staggaring, he headed out of the bar, nearly tripping over the threshold. He blinked his eyes, the hunter in him taking a moment to scan the parking lot. Nothing unusual, no one about. He made his way slowly toward the motel. It seemed farther away than he thought it had been. The path he walked was anything but straight as he headed toward his distant Impala and the motel room beckoning to him. He passed under the street light and then into a dark section of empty land between the bar and the motel. Blinding pain exploded in the back his skull and he fell to his knees, vaguely feeling the gravel dig into his knees as the darkness swallowed him.

*

The music was light and fun, with the sort of beat a teenager might like. Spike should know, he'd been surrounded by the scoobs for years, not that they'd ever grown out of their music or out of their teens even a decade later. Someone called out 'dinner' and another person asked if they were having a buffet. "Poor sod," Spike muttered, hearing the inevitable screams and pleas of the _dinner_. He didn't try to tug on the chains that bound him, not anymore. He'd learned a long time ago it wasn't any use.

There was no music down here, the music was from the mansion, upstairs. He was quite sure they were in the basement or dungeon. A dungeon of horrors. Once, long ago, he might have enjoyed the offerings of this place. Not as a victim but as one of the predators. How many of his own victims had died cursing and hoping the horrors of hell would be visited on him?

It was dark, but not pitch black. Dingy ceiling lights gave an eerie glow to the long hallway lined by cells on both sides. Bars separated the cells but there were no doors, they weren't needed as all the _guests_ were kept manacled by their wrists. The flooring was cold bathroom tile with grates along the edges to allow water to drain when they were given their daily "showers" with a pressurized hose that was aimed at them and at any blood, urine and excrement. 

His cell was at the end of the hall. He hadn't had any cellmates for a while, not until they'd brought this unconscious man in and shackled him up across from Spike, slightly to the left. That was hours ago. Now the man was making some noises and showing signs of waking up. The moans turned into an oath and the slumped body straightened, the man slowly raising his head.

"You're not a screamer, are you?" Spike asked, changing positions so one of his legs was no longer stretched out in front of him, but instead was bent at the knee with the sole of his boot flat on the floor. "All the new ones are. Screamers, that is."

Dean's head pounded from the alcohol he'd consumed and from the blow he'd taken. He was grateful the lights were dim. He'd been trying to sort out where the fuck he was when he realized he was shackled. Lifting his head, he focused on the man who'd spoken. The guy was a bleach blond, British judging by his accent, lean and muscular, dressed in a black t-shirt, jeans, biker boots and was shackled just like Dean. 

Dean wet his dry lips as he studied his new surroundings. More people, both men and women, were shackled in other cells. Soft sobs were audible from further down the way. He realized he'd been stripped of his coat and over shirts. Pushing himself to his feet, he winced as he felt his stomach rebel at the sudden movement. He fought to keep his gorge down and succeeded, barely. After all, he'd had a lot of practice with that over the past weeks since his return from hell. Looking at the locks on the shackles, he saw they wouldn't be all that hard to pick. He checked his waistband but the lockpick was gone. His pockets were empty and even the thin wire he had taken to keeping in his pants cuff was gone, along with his silver knife and its ankle holster. 

_Crap._

"Where are we? Who's holding us?" Dean snapped at the man, turning his head to meet the blue eyes of his cellmate.

Spike tracked the bloke's movements. It was clear he was looking for weapons or tools, anything that might have been on him before he was taken. He did seem to be keeping his head though, and that was a good sign in a cell mate. Temporary as the arrangement might be. 

"Last thing I remember is a back room poker game in Pleasant, Tennessee. That where you were taken from?" He lifted his face and saw the brief nod. "Get the same answer from everyone I've talked to so best guess is we're still in Tennessee. What's the date?" Hearing it, Spike swore and pulled on the chain, getting nothing but the sound of its rattling and rolling on the tile. "Three weeks for me," he finally said. "As for who's got us... The better questiong might be _what's_ got us, yeah?" He didn't expect the man to believe, not until the first so called assembly of theirs.

" _What's_ got us?" Dean asked, wanting nothing more than to have something to drive his fist into. Fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck. Why couldn't he be like any average joe who took off to get away from it all for a few days? But nooooo, the good old fucking Winchester curse just had to fucking kick in and from the way the guy said it, something supernatural had them.

"Fuck!" Dean snarled aloud, getting up and tugging at the chains in frustration. "Okay Cas, any fucking time now, you can show up!" Dean said glaring at the ceiling. After a moment Dean made a sound of disgust and looked down at the blond. "Any water around here?" 

Eyes narrowed, Spike grabbed the cup on the ground next to him and leaned forward, holding it up. The water in it was untouched from hours ago. "Take mine. Feel free to share it with your invisible friend." 

Dean gave a soft snort. "Yeah. Invisible friend." 

The shackles had a decent run of chain on them and he took the couple steps needed to reach the water. He wanted to up end the whole glass, but who knew when they'd get more. He took slow sips, rolling each around in his parched mouth. When he'd drank about a third of it, he offered it back to the guy. "Thanks. So, give me the fucked up news. _What_ has us?"

"Keep it." He probably shouldn't be torturing the guy but Spike had been alone for a while and needed some entertainment. Besides, this bloke looked like he had it together and could take it. "What's undead, suffers from nightclub pallor, gives you a...." his gaze automatically shifted to the column of the guy's throat. The sharp pang of hunger shot through him. Clamping down on it, he continued as if he'd never paused, "... stiff neck? Oh, right, and keeps its savings at a blood bank." Smirking, he challenged the man to come up with even a close answer.

Cocking an eyebrow at the guy Dean shrugged and gratefully took a few more sips of water. He'd drink half now and half a little later, or the guy might change his mind and want some, he thought as he listened to the riddle. 

Vampires. Fucking vampires. He groaned. So why the hell hadn't Castiel shown up, if God had 'work for him to do' and all that crap? Maybe this was another test. Or maybe it was a little revenge for him selling his soul. Maybe they needed him all but indestructable and as a vampire, he sure as hell would fit that bill. Turning away from the guy, he shook his head in disgust. He set the water down by the bars and after looking around, saw the grating that was surely the 'restroom.' He had to piss, and piss bad, after all that alcohol. Turning to the grate, he unzipped. As pissed, he glanced back at the guy.

"So how big a nest are we talking?" Dean asked. 

"Big." Spike didn't bother glancing away from the guy's face. In other circumstances he might have been tempted to to take a quick look at what the guy was hiding in his jeans. "You a vampire hunter?" That would be his bleeding luck, to be captured by maniacal vampires and chained in the same cell as a possibly maniacal vampire hunter. "Got a name?"

"Great," Dean muttered. "I'm a hunter," Dean said with a nod of his head. "I don't specialize in vamps though. I'll go after anything that kills people and is supernatural. I've taken down a nest before. Was going to take down another but...well, let's just say some vamps have wised up and decided eating people is bad for their health," Dean said as he tucked his cock back in his jeans, zipped up, and returned to sitting down, his back pressed against the bars and facing the guy. "Winchester. Dean Winchester. You?"

So, not a fanatic. Maybe. "Spike. Just Spike. You can say I'm a vampire hunter who hunts demons as well, or was." He gave a shrug. "My hunting _partners_ " he wasn't about to call himself a 'Scoob,' "moved to Rome and I've been... haven't decided what I'm going to do next." He wasn't very welcome in Europe, especially by the Vatican, and he wasn't about to start all over trying to prove he was worthy of some respect. He gave Dean a speculative look. Maybe things were looking up. He hadn't found a way out, not for lack of trying, but with two experienced hunters, maybe they could manage. 

"Rome? They must have come up with better ways to make cash than most hunters I know. Right now it looks like the next thing you're going to do is become a meal, or maybe they'll make you join their ranks. If by some _miracle_ ," he said looking toward the ceiling and sounding decidedly pissed off, "we get outta here," his gaze returned to Spike, "I'd focus on demons. Or hang up your hunting gear and go have the biggest fucking blowout you've ever had. Like you don't have a tomorrow." 

"What about your hunting partner, Cas?" Spike guessed. "Good looking and kicks arse?" If he was lucky, she would be a slayer.

Dean made a face. "He's not my type and sure as hell not my hunting partner. He's a fucking pain in my ass and a dick." Dean's eyes grew distant and his face pained. "My hunting partner, my brother, Sam, he's...I don't know if...I don't know if we can stay..." Dean shook his head. "Things aren't good between us right now. He's acting like everything is fine and it's not. It's just...it's not." 

"So you're surrounded by dicks and arses, probably makes you either a magnet or one of them." He could tell from the look on Dean's face the topic was closed. At least for now. "But he'd still come after you, your brother?" Right, didn't take a genius to read this man, and once again, the topic wasn't up for discussion. "This nest, it's run by blood dealers. Organized crime at its finest and money is their goal." He made a face. "That makes us the donors, and the entertainment. Don't appear too strong or you'll attract attention. More importantly, don't act too broken, or you'll be invited upstairs. I wouldn't believe their lies about letting you go." The screams had only now died down, but before that, there had been gurgling, and talk of stewing the victim in his own blood. Spike could hear it all even if there was at least one floor between this dungeon hell and party central in the mansion itself.

"Blood Dealers?" Dean asked. He sniffed. "Swell. Fucking great. Vamps got organized." Dean hung his head. Not too strong, not too broken. He was screwed. He wasn't going to just let the vamps feed on him. And broken? He was all sorts of that. He was pitiful and useless. Couldn't keep his brother from going dark, couldn't keep himself from giving in either. And here? Here there wouldn't be any alcohol to keep himself drunk enough to forget about Hell. After a deep sigh, he looked at Spike.

"Okay, you've been here three weeks. There's two of us now. All I need is something to pick locks with, hell, a paper clip even, and I can get these damned shackles off. So that's our first priority. Can you get us out from there if I get us out of the shackles?"

With the regular bloodletting, Spike was getting his strength back. He'd bitten his own inner arm in an attempt to bleed out the tainted blood inside him, but the scent had affected the vampires in a way he'd never anticipated. They'd gone off at each other and at the prisoners, like they were enthralled by uncontrollable lust. If he'd had these shackles off, he might have been able to escape while they couldn't think straight. Course if he'd been the object of their lust, without his strength, he'd have ... right, it was better not to think of the consequences. 

"I'm very motivated," Spike answered without fully answering. If his strength built up enough, then he'd be able to break the chains himself. But it was taking a long time. Wait until he got his hands on the bastard who'd injected him with what he bragged was a solution filled with silver micro-crosses that sapped him of strength. The bugger was laughing and collecting Spike's winnings at the poker table all the time Spike was writhing on the ground and blacking out. "Got a score to settle."

"If that score's with someone in this nest, I'll help, but it waits until we're both free and clear of here and can put together a plan. Deal?" Dean asked.

"That would make it two scores, and you've got yourself a deal." Eyeing Dean's as yet unmarked face, Spike could tell he would attract attention. For the hunter's sake, if it had to happen, he hoped it was a female vampire. Something told him this man would not take well to being used by anyone, but if he'd never had relations with males, it would be a worse experience. "And don't do that," he snapped. "Smile or look into anyone's eyes like you're _asking for it._ "

Dean scowled, but nodded. 

* * * *

Dean resisted sleeping. He knew he would probably wake up screaming, or crying, or at the least, smelling of fear, and any of those would likely be bad. He had long finished off Spike's water after offering it back to Spike a final time. He was getting hungry but hunger was one of those things he had felt in Hell constantly and it didn't take much for him to ignore his growling stomach. He hated the 'too much time to think' situation he was in. He and Spike began swapping hunter stories and sometimes had each other laughing so hard it almost hurt. He was fascinated by Spike's tales of the The Slayer though Spike avoided talking about any vamps she had taken down since he didn't want any sharp-eared vamp to hear him. She was legend as far as Dean was concerned and he thought how much Sam would love to hear the stories...and quickly pushed that thought away. He was still pissed at Sam and even though he knew this could be it, and that he ought to try to forgive Sam, he just couldn't. Sam had promised he wouldn't do the psychic mojo. Without Dean, he knew there would be nothing to keep Sam from going darkside. One more burden, one more failure for him.

After a while they had both fallen into silence. Spike had closed his eyes and Dean let the man sleep. It had been quiet for hours, but now he heard footsteps and muffled voices, more and more of them. Down the aisle of cells he heard the rustle of chains and renewed sobbing. A door opened and the sobbing ceased immediately. Dean kicked Spike's foot.

"We've got company coming," Dean hissed at him.

"Right. Time for entertainment," Spike groused, pushing up off the ground. "Come on, get up. It's better than being dragged out, yeah?" Spike shook his legs out and ignored the shouting and screaming as people were dragged from their cells. Some were new and were terrified because they didn't know what was coming, others had been here longer and were terrified because they did know.

By the time a woman with long hair down to her waist, a mini skirt and go go boots he remembered only too well from the sixties, walked in, Dean was up. Spike dociley raised his wrists up to her, gritting his teeth when she roughly undid the metal bracelet then the next one.

Brushing past him, she turned her feral gaze to Dean and suddenly gripped his throat and pushed him against the wall. "Fresh blood. Bet you taste delicious," she said, flashing her teeth at him as she forced a long nail into his flesh.

Wincing as the nail dug in, Dean started to make a snarky comment back to the bitch when he saw Spike's warning look. He ground his teeth and focused on Spike instead of the vampire bitch's eyes. He wanted nothing more than to stare her down and slam a fist into her face. Or to tell her to take off his shackles and get the damned show on the road, but he just kept focused on Spike's blue eyes. He turned his head away from Spike only when he felt her tongue lick across the wound her nail had given him and he forced himself to make his breath hitch, like he was afraid of what else she would do. When she started to suck at the small wound he just couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

"Either eat me or unshackle me, Bitch," he growled. He did manage to resist the urge to punch her in the gut even though he knew it wouldn't do anything more than piss her off.

"Is that an invitation?" She practically purred before she bit down on his lip and held it in the grip of her fangs. If she pulled back, it would rip a nice long tear from almost his lip to his chin.

Spike tripped over the cup Dean had left on the ground, cursed as he fell, and grabbed onto her skirt and thigh. The backhand sent him crashing into the wall. Apologizing profusely, he put his hand out for Dean to help him up.

The vamp had let go of his throat and lip when Spike startled her, but Spike paid for that distraction, painfully, and Dean felt a twinge of guilt. He helped Spike to his feet and got the warning glare from hell. He bowed his head and held out his wrists to the woman. "Sorry," he mumbled the apology to her, but really meant it for Spike. It galled the hell out of him to be fucking subservient to demonic-tainted trash like this bitch. If Spike was going to be stupid and take more punishment all because of Dean's smart mouth, he'd curb it. Or try to, at least.

When she freed Dean, she shoved him into Spike and told Spike, "Take your _girlfriend_ to assembly, now."

Spike gripped Dean's hip and shoulder to prevent both of them from falling over. The scent of Dean's blood hit him. He licked his lips and releasing Dean's hip, dragged him out of the cell and walked quickly down the long hall. Most of the cells they passed were empty or were being emptied of humans, but one large cell was filled with women. Pregnant women, and one of them was crying 'not now, not now,' then taking deep breaths. 

Dean's eyes widened at seeing all the pregnant women. No. Crap, no! He started toward them, not sure what he was going to do but he had to try to do _something_ dammit! Spike's grip on his wrist was like iron and Spike yanked him back.

"Lemme go, dammit! We can't just--"

"Bloody hell, man, there's nothing you can do," Spike said forcefully, bringing his face into Dean's space. "You get yourself killed, or injured badly, they won't have a chance at rescue. Do you want that? If you do, then have at it," he shook the hunter. "Otherwise play along, live to see another day."

Other people started crowding behind them and Spike started to drag Dean again. At least Dean had gotten his point since he was now moving.

They rounded a corner and there was a line of vampires between them and the way to the stairs leading up to the mansion. They walked past the blocked stairs and went through a narrow door leading to a large chamber with a stage in the middle. Humans sat on chairs around the stage, many scrambling and trying to get seats as far from the stage as possible. Vampires walked between them, meting out unnecessary punishment.

Dean wasn't happy, but Spike was right, God dammit. He looked at the arena-like area, the way people tried to get away from it, and the blood stains on the stage. Fuck. Whatever was going to happen wasn't going to be good. He let Spike drag him to seating on the second row back from the stage. Not too close, but not the desperately far away seats others were trying to get to. Based on what Spike had told him earlier, the location made sense. Not too strong, not too broken.

He watched as vampires started putting IVs in people's arms with an IV adjustable dial that they opened. Blood began to drip very slowly down the tubes. When a vampire reached him, Spike gave him a discreet kick before Dean did any of the number of things that flashed into his mind. He gave Spike an evil glare but kept his mouth shut and let them insert the IV and tape it down. 

The vampire gave Dean a once over. "You're new," he said then wrote 'N5' on the bag the IV tubing was connected to. "You try to remove the IV and you'll be the entertainment. Got it, pretty boy?"

"Yeah," Dean said, starting to meet the vampire's eyes, ready to give him a dark glare, but stopped himself. Instead, he turned his eyes to the stage. The lights went out and Dean heard a slight scuffle and a guy sobbing, mixed with blubbering cries of 'No, please!'. The stage lights came on and a guy was standing there, looking scared out of his wits, trembling. A vampire dressed in tight leather pants, leather straps criss-crossing his chest in crazy patterns and looking very much like what Dean figured a guy with a bondage fetish would, walked onto the stage. Cat calls and shouts of encouragement sounded from behind Dean. He turned but couldn't see more than dark outlines of people. 

The leather clad guy on stage stretched, flexing his muscles, and said to the terrified man. "Fight or die. You know the deal. Fight good enough, we'll let you live and you'll be safe from being chosen again, at least for a few days." 

This was going to be quick, Spike could already tell. He looked at a spot on the wall behind the two men, but couldn't avoid the scene altogether. Anyone who didn't look at the stage was severely punished as an example. The point was that they wanted fear-induced, adrenalin-rich blood, and this ensured they got it.

The fight started off brutally. The vampire stalked the human but didn't bother playing. His hand shot out and initially it looked like he grabbed the guy's hair. One tug, and it was clear the reason the man was shouting wasn't fear alone, but pain. The vampire had gotten his hard as steel nails into the man's scalp and had torn it off so part of it was now hanging from his head as blood poured into the man's eyes and down his shoulders.

Spike's stomach roiled with pity and hunger. He clenched his teeth together and tried not to think of the scent.

Dean wanted to look away but saw what happened to those who did. This was a pale shadow of the things he had been forced to watch in Hell, endured in Hell, but it still brought back those memories and made him want to puke. He wanted to jump onto the stage and try to protect the poor guy, but there were no weapons to fight with, and going up against what he assumed was a vampire, all these vampires bare-handed? Yeah. Suicide.

Dean's nails dug into the arms of the chair as he watched the vampire flay the man, stripping off chunks of skin using his nails. The man was screaming in agony and Dean shut his eyes, the man's screams echoing in his skull mirroring the screams he had screamed, and the screams he had caused. The slap to his face snapped his head sharply to the side.

"Watch!" a vampire yelled at Dean

Out of instinct, Dean was almost ready to go down on his knees and beg forgiveness. He stared at the vampire wide-eyed, for the barest of moments seeing Alastair, and his breath simply locked up. It rushed out of him and a frightened "Yes sir," was out of his mouth before he could prevent it. His gaze returned instantly to the stage and he felt the tremors start in his muscles. _I'm not in Hell, I'm not in Hell, I'm not in Hell..._ he kept repeating to himself. 

Dual images warred in his mind, of suffering the sorts of things the man was suffering, and of dishing out the sort of torture the vampire was dishing out. He didn't realize it but he gripped Spike's wrist as if trying to find some sort of grounding in this reality, trying not fall into the tortured memories in his mind.

Spike gave Dean a sidelong look. He looked like a pale shadow of the calm and rebellious hunter who would have taken on the vampire in their cell and all the rest of them to save the pregnant women. It was clear to Spike, who'd been there himself, that Dean was fighting a private battle of his own. This... these games of theirs would take hours. He needed to help this man now.

The deathblow was violent and bloody. The man's body was tossed into the crowd, causing those he fell on to scream in terror even after his body was pulled away and taken out. 

Two women, sisters or twins, were shoved onto the stage. They wanted to survive and were putting up a fight, but Spike knew they were already dead. He couldn't do anything for them, but maybe he could do something for Dean who was shaking and appeared to be going into some sort of shock. Spike spoke softly, though he knew any vampire who cared to would hear him. Point was, they could talk, but not look away. Unless they changed the rules today. 

_"The boy stood on the burning deck  
Whence all but he had fled;   
The flame that lit the battle's wreck   
Shone round him o'er the dead._

_Yet beautiful and bright he stood,  
As born to rule the storm;  
A creature of heroic blood,  
A proud, though childlike form._

_The flames roll'd on...he would not go  
Without his father's word;   
That father, faint in death below,   
His voice no longer heard._

_He call'd aloud..."Say, father, say  
If yet my task is done!"  
He knew not that the chieftain lay  
Unconscious of his son." _

Spike didn't know why he'd chosen the poem about the brave young boy, a child, who'd stayed at his post on a burning ship during the 1798 battle of the Nile between the Royal British Navy and French fleet. In a stunning show of devotion and duty, the boy had refused to abandon his post because his father, an officer, had not given the order. In Spike's time, the poem by Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans, had been quite popular. Though he doubted Dean would understand more than half of what he said, he knew the rhythm of the words would help. It was how he'd survived imprisonment and mind tricks once.

Dean watched the bloody death of the man, not flinching when the body landed in the crowd and watching as the two women came on stage. He knew their fate would be the same though they would die differently. The same death over and over grew wearisome, boring for the torturer and had less impact for the onlookers. He saw the vampire's nails rip open the belly of one of the women, pulling out entrails through the wound. Distantly he heard words in a British accent whispered to him. Tears began to spill down his cheeks. 

"Let me go, tell me I'm done," he whispered softly, practically begging. But he knew it wasn't over, he knew he wasn't done, and he felt like the woman on stage having her guts ripped out. He eased his grip on Spike's wrist and watched the spectacles, one after another, with nearly sightless eyes.

As Dean's fingers slipped off his wrist, Spike gripped Dean's hand and held it tight, wanting him to know he wasn't alone. Hours later, when the IV's were ripped off, he leaned over to Dean and whispered in his ear. "You're done." With that, he helped the hunter up but quickly released him when he saw a certain light enter his eyes. 

* * * 

_The scream tore from his throat as he twisted and writhed on the rack. His skin was peeled off, his entrails pulled out, other demons playing with them as Alastair continued his work._ One part of Dean's brain noted that Alastair wasn't very creative today as he suffered through everything done to the people he had watched die on the stage. Though he was screaming in his nightmare he only whimpered softly aloud as if wanting to stay quiet so as not to wake his brother he was certain was sleeping in the next bed.

Spike was used to the muffled cries, they came at him from all directions every time the lights were dimmed to indicate it was time for the humans to sleep. Realizing some of them came from Dean, he crawled over, gripped the hunter's shoulder and shook him. "Wake up. Dean, it's nothing but a dream, mate, open your eyes," he demanded with a stronger shake.

Dean's eyes shot open and he sucked in a breath, the nightmare still so fresh in his mind he wasn't sure where he was for a moment. "I'm fine, Sam. Go back to sleep," he mumbled as he swam toward full consciousness. He frowned as the fact Sam's voice wasn't right and had an accent tickled his brain. He slowly focused on the man staring down at him with worried eyes.

"Spike..." he said, trying to get his brain back in gear. Fuck he needed a drink. "I'm okay, I'm fine," he said, his voice growing stronger as he pushed himself upright, feeling the shackles on his wrists and hearing the chains clink against one another and scrape over the floor. He was anything but alright, but he wouldn't admit to that, except to himself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you. Go on back to sleep," he encouraged. He knew he was definitely done sleeping for the night. 

Slapping the bloke's face lightly, Spike answered. "Good." Crawling back, Spike leaned against the bars and brought his knees up. 

The lights were still dim, but Dean let his gaze rove over the cell he was in, the cells that lined the basement, and the sleeping forms inside them. He could feel Spike's eyes on him but ignored the man. He finally let his head fall back and just stared at an indistinct spot on the ceiling, fighting with his own demons and trying to forget the nightmare. 

After about ten minutes of silence, Spike quietly said, "I'm all ears. Whatever you're dreaming, it can't be worse than this hellhole, yeah?"

At Spike's soft words, a bitter laugh broke from Dean. "This is a vacation spot in Tahiti, Dude," Dean answered. He dropped his gaze from the ceiling and met Spike's eyes. He could see Spike wanted an explanantion for that cryptic comment.

After a long struggle with himself he finally gave a sigh and a wave of his hand. "The...show...they put on, it brought back some memories of a place I was trapped for a long time. I've only been 'free' a couple months." Dean dry scrubbed his face. He debated about saying more. Spike had helped him in the brief time he'd been here, and he knew it was only going to get worse for him. The alcohol was the only thing that had been helping him through it as he tried to numb the pain and guilt. Spike wouldn't believe the truth of course. The whole 'Yeah, sold my soul, went to hell, and after thirty years I got off the rack and started returning the favor until an angel of God pulled the useless piece of crap I am out of the pit.' Spike would figure he was fucking nuts and he wasn't really sure he wasn't. He didn't want Spike to look at him in disgust, to pull back that support he reluctantly admitted he needed. After a moment he added, "I drink. I drink a lot. Only thing that let's me get anything resembling sleep. I'd fucking kill for a bottle of Jack right about now."

Spike listened without comment. He'd been in worse or comparable places before, and he'd been held prisoner many times. But that was during a lifespan of a hundred years. This guy who was probably less than a third of his age had just been freed from one place, only to land in this one? He had to have been born under a bad sign.

He'd smelled like alcohol when he'd been brought in. So it hadn't been an isolated bout of drinking. Right now, Spike could see clear to his soul, the soul of a broken man. Anyone could break in here, but the thing of it was that this place hadn't done it, someplace else, some other predators had done this to Dean. A sense of angry helplessness washed over Spike, maybe because he really had walked in this man's shoes. And maybe it was because of all the glimpses he'd gotten of the _other_ man still inside Dean, the confident and rebellious hunter determined to beat the odds. He was in there too, maybe fighting to surface.

Tugging on the metal chains Spike made his way over to Dean, sat next to him and putting one arm around him, pulled him close so he could rest his head on Spike's shoulder or chest if he wanted. "I'd kill for a drink myself," he said, shifting his mind with iron determination away from the sound of the hunter's steady pulse.

When Spike put him arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, Dean twisted his head and looked at him with surprise. He didn't know if Spike was offering him comfort or _comfort._

"Dude, I so don't swing that way," he said, but forced a light and teasing tone, giving a smirk so as not to offend the man, whatever his intentions had been. He grasped Spike's hand and used it to gently pull his arm off his shoulder. "I 'ppreciate it, Spike, I do, but touchy-feely isn't me. Neither is chick-flick." He twisted a bit and squeezed Spike's shoulder. "I'm fine, Dude. Really. It was just a nightmare."

Spike gave what could pass for a smile or a 'huh,' but didn't comment. It wasn't as if he was surprised.

Pushing himself to his feet, Dean got up and pissed again. They'd given everyone a shitload of water and orange juice after the 'show.' The orange juice had burned like a bitch in the wound the vampire had given his lip but he drank it without complaint. Spike told him they'd be fed after they slept since most people couldn't eat after the show. Dean had grumbled he wasn't most people and was fucking starved. Although he wanted to pace, Dean didn't want Spike to think his gesture had freaked him or something so he settled back down on the floor beside Spike. His stomach growled again. 

"Food might be good but what comes after's a bit of a bugger." Spike stole a glance at Dean, then rubbed the back of his own neck. "Unless you like cold water."

"Well I wish they'd feed us already," Dean said. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. "Cold water?" Dean asked. "...I'm assuming you're not talking about cold water to drink."

"Shower. Bloody pressurized hose. When they start, you might want to take your clothes off." Feeling Dean's gaze, he shook his head. "Don't flatter yourself, yeah?" 

"I don't have to. All the ladies do it for me," Dean said with a smirk. "Yeah, don't think I want to sit down here with soaked clothes. I'm betting 'I have a pneumonia' wouldn't be a good excuse to avoid the 'show.' Probably make you go to the front of the line as the entertainment." Dean was silent a minute then said, "I've seen some of the vamps wearing jewelry, pins and crap. If we can snag something like that, I can probably use it to pick the locks, so long as the metal isn't too brittle."

"I'll keep a look out. If they didn't come down here in hoards, we could take the key off one of them. Only time there's fewer than what you saw is when they bring the..." Right, there was no need to protect Dean from the information, Dean would find out anyway. "Sometimes they whore people out and it's one-on-one. Blood. Sex. Rough play. But then we're chained. They've thought it all through."

Dean stared at Spike a moment. Flashbacks of the abuses he had suffered in Hell sprang into his mind. He'd been raped so many times...Shaking himself out of the memories he nodded grimly. "Yeah, I'm not surprised. Kinda goes along with the whole demonic torture theme they're mastering. Still, all hazy with sex makes 'em sloppy. Better chance to grab something unnoticed, unless we're chained up too tight to have a hope of grabbing something?" 

"Haven't had that pleasure yet. It's good being at the end of the cells, they usually end up picking people in the cells at the beginning. No patience," he shrugged. "I don't think people are chained up any tighter but I haven't heard anything good that would make me hope one of us is chosen. Unless it's for a blood donation. They seem to pick blood dolls within a few hours of the assemblies, when they're offering us up."

"You do what you gotta do to survive," Dean said darkly. "If getting bit, hit and fucked means I lay my hands on something to pick these locks, it's nothing that hasn't happened to me before." 

"If you get your hands on something," Spike nodded. "But it's the twenty first century, and in case you haven't noticed, no one's walking around with hatpins, and there aren't that many wearing broaches. Chances are, all you'll be getting is bit, hit and fucked." He banged the back of his head against the wall. "At one of the assemblies, they had barbed wire on the ground and around the ring. Maybe we could get a piece of it if they use it again, and I get picked." He hoped, with a bit more strength, he'd be able to break off a piece.

"Maybe no hatpins, Dude, but some of the punksters have safety pins. I saw one with a metal wire bracelet that was thin enough to use. A couple of the women have hoop earrings. The buckle on a watch band might work, though usually those are too cheap and the metal will break when you try to bend it open. You just have to keep an open mind." Looking at Spike he shook his head. "You getting picked isn't a good option. Not after what I saw in the ring tonight. What were they doing, thinning out the herd? I didn't see any walk away from that ring alive. And if they did use barbed wire, how the hell are you going to get a piece? Gnaw it off with your teeth?" He looked at Spike, giving him his best older brother look. "Don't get stupid and volunteer yourself up. I'm not walking out of here without you." 

"I knew you cared. Don't worry, you have your ways, I have mine," he gave a smug smile. "And I've been picked before. It's not always a 'to the death' deal. Not that it was..." He looked down. "After I made it through the course they'd set up, they had me pick... Pick the next victim or it's the entire row, they said." 

His moment of triumph had taken a turn straight to hell. 

"You gotta do what you gotta do. Wasn't your fault, Spike," Dean said emphatically. "Just another way to mindfuck you. They really have it down to a science, the bastards. You'd think they'd been to Hell and back. Maybe there's a real demon in the mix," he added, glaring at the ceiling. "Wish I could remember a full exorcism rite to test that theory. I'm not good past a couple lines without a book usually." He shrugged. "Always left that to my brother, the one with more trivia locked in his brain than beer in a brothel." After a pause he asked, "So when do they start choosing the victims? You seen any rhyme or reason as to who they choose?" 

"Depends on the game, and there's no pattern to that. We'll find something," he patted Dean's shoulder and stood up to stretch. "You're in luck. Food's coming." He could smell it and he'd heard the sound of a pushcart from a distance.

Dean perked up at the thought of food. "About damned time. I hope it's not crap, though I'm about ready to eat shoe leather at this point." His stomach growled loudly as if in agreement.

"If you close your eyes, it tastes like steak and potatoes. And marmite," he added with just a touch of malice. The sound of metal clinking increased as more and more prisoners woke and accepted their food and water and began another day of their miserable existence.

Dean gave him a sidelong glance. What the hell was marmite? 

The pushcart reached their cell and a fledgling walked in. Spike gave him a second look. "Switched sides, did you."

"Shut the fuck up." The guy didn't look into Spike's eyes as he put two bowls on the ground and tossed a bread roll on top of each. He started to pour water into two plastic cups. "Put the old ones on the bottom of the cart," he snapped.

Spike put his hand out for Dean to give him the old cup, then tossed it into the cart. He knew Dean was checking the guy out too, for anything that might be useful, but they were out of luck. "How's your wife?" It only dawned on Spike now that he hadn't seen the mousy haired woman with the brilliant blue eyes yesterday at the assembly. Sensing the fledgling's rising anger, he asked again. "Are you going to let them do what they want with her? Kill--"

The fledgling grabbed his throat and had him pushed up against the bars. It took everything Spike had to prevent himself from trying to fight back. "Michelle, that's her..."

The fledgling's eyes glittered with anger and emotions as he pressed harder.

Giving a fake cough, Spike waited for the pressure to be reduced. "Already gone, is she."

"I killed her, and I will kill you--"

"Andy!"

The fledgling immediately let go and started to push the cart out.

"You'll never forget it, you know." Spike rubbed his throat. "The weight of it will be with you always, unless--" This time it was an unexpected punch in the jaw. Rubbing it, he remained silent until the guy left. "So much for trying to create an ally..."

"Real way you've got with people there, Spike. Sam's puppy-dog eyes of doom could have probably--" Dean immediately shut his mouth. He didn't want to think about Sam. If Sam figured out where Dean was and tried to rescue him, for the number of vamps in this place, he'd get killed trying.

Dean grabbed his bowl of food and sat down, his back against the bars. He lifted the bread off the top and wrinkled his nose. Glop. Brown glop with stringy green stuff and other undefinable chunks of food. Surprisingly, there was plastic spoon, though if Dean thought about it, the vamps probably wanted to keep their 'cattle' healthy. He tentatively took a scoopful of the food, and tasted it. He gave something of a shrug. It wasn't great, the gravy was fatty as hell, but there were potatoes or potato-like somethings in there, the green slime he figured out was spinach--made sense, high in iron--some other veggies he wasn't sure what they were and meat that he thought were cheap cuts of beef. Red meat, more high iron stuff. It was edible and he was hungry. Not like the vamps were going to poison him on anything, though he bit down on something that he quickly decided was a pill. Probably vitamins thrown in. Like rolling a pill in a piece of meat for a dog.

After finishing off the bowl, he turned to the roll. It was little chewy, but again, not the worst he had ever had, not by a long shot. He used it to scrape out the bowl. No matter how bad it tasted, Dean probably would have eaten it. If he was going to get himself the hell out of here, he needed his strength and the constant blood letting was going to quickly steal that away. 

He looked over at Spike. "So what's marmite?" he asked around a mouthful of roll.

Pushing the food around in the bowl and giving Dean a disgusted look for how quickly he'd eaten what even the vampire knew wasn't appetizing, he answered. "It's like vegemite, only it's British. I was hoping to disgust you, but after seeing you eat this..." he raised his bowl, "I'd have to take it up a few hundred notches. Have mine, will you?" He was sitting again, so he shoved the bowl across the floor and then made as if to sip on his water.

Dean gave him a scowl. "Dude, it tastes like ass, but it's food, which means it's energy and energy is what you're going to need when we bust out of here. Eat it." He slid the bowl back toward Spike, but Spike shoved it right back in front of him.

Fuck it. He was hungry. If the other hunter wanted to be an idiot, there wasn't anything Dean could do shy of force-feeding him. He began on Spike's dinner, noting it seemed to taste worse with time. _Food_ he reminded himself and forced the rest of it down. He ate the roll too, but didn't scrape the bowl clean like he had with his own. Slowly sipping the water, he sloshed it around in his mouth to get rid of the foul taste of dinner, though the roll had sort of helped with that. After drinking half of it down, he remembered Spike said they'd get their 'shower' soon. Spike had water when Dean woke up which meant they'd get more water because these flimsy cups wouldn't withstand a pressurized hose. Recalling that, he finished off his water.

Burping, he rubbed his stomach. Felt kinda like a lead weight sitting in there but it was better than nothing. He'd wait to take a shit until they almost reached them with the hose, that way the cell would stay clean and he could wash up. "Do they take blood from us every night? Seems like it would put us into the useless category pretty damned fast if they didn't give us a few days between the bloodletting."

Spike had lost his sense of time. "I'm not sure, it feels like we're on a less than 24 hour clock. Some 'cycles,' not everyone is taken to assembly. But that hasn't happened often so I don't think we get that many breaks. People die or are killed all the time, they don't care about making us last, yeah?" From a business perspective, he could see Dean's point, but the vampires they were dealing with were arrogant, uncaring, and slightly off. He frowned. "They must take their own drugs. I'm guessing here but they're not just evil, there's more to it than that." Unable to put his finger on it, he mused out loud, "We could make crosses out of the legs of the chairs in the assembly room." Naturally, he meant Dean could.

"Then they have to be bringing people in from more than just Pleasant, Tennessee. They can't keep up this volume without drawing attention." Suddenly what Spike said about crosses made Dean look at him. "What the fuck are you talking about? Making crosses? I thought you said you were a vampire hunter. You know none of that Hollywood shit works on vamps, not daylight, holy water, stake through the heart, crosses, none of it. Beheading is the only thing that takes them down." Dean tilted his head and his eyes softened a little. "Did you lose someone? Come after them? Thought you knew all the lore and found out you were wrong?"

"Don't be a bloody idiot," Spike gripped one of the bars and stared at Dean. "I thought _you_ were a hunter. Crosses work, not little tiny ones on a chain, but big ones." Or micro ones floating in your bloodstream, those seemed to work too bleeding good. "And a stake to the heart turns them to ash. It's easier taking them out that way than by beheading." Everything about the man screamed 'hunter' and yet... vampires walking in the sun, ha! Only if they got their humanity back, and as far as Spike knew, it wasn't possible. "What is a Brugala? And how do you kill it?"

"Crosses don't work! Hell, the nest I went after and took out with my family? The head vampire's chick had a silver cross big as shit around her neck. They don't like the sun, but they sure as hell can walk in it if they want. Vampires don't turn to ash, just a messy headless body. And if you haven't noticed, they don't exactly have fangs like good old Dracula. It's all crap!" Dean said, his voice rising a little. "I've never heard of a Brugala or gone up against one, so I don't know. Wendigos, fire. Ghouls, headshots. Werewolves, silver bullets. Zombies, stake em in their coffin, though silver slows them down a bit. Shtrigas, consecrated iron rounds but you can only kill them when they're feeding," Dean ticked off. "So let's go with an easy one for you. How do you get rid of a ghost?" 

Spike couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he did know some of the entities Dean was spewing about and his answers as to those were right. "You're testing _me?_ " he sneered. "Listen you, I've got..." he strode toward Dean but one of the chains leading to his shackles was tangled and held him back. Cursing as he tugged it free, he calmed down. It wasn't like he could announce he knew what he was talking about because he was a vampire and had about seventy years experience on Dean. "Ghost." He sighed. "If its not causing any trouble, you leave it alone. If its angry or whiny, then you figure out what its unresolved issues are, fix them, and they're off. Or you exorcise them, if you feel it's an evil ghost. Right, you satisfied now?"

"You have got to be shitting me. Exorcisms are for demons. You salt and burn their bones or any remains. If you can't do that, you get creative. You don't play patty-cake with 'em!" 

"Well maybe you're not as charming as you think, so they don't play with you. How long did you say you've been doing this? Don't bloody tell me for the months you've been free," he said, giving Dean another look. 

"All my life," Dean snapped. "Since I was four and a demon killed my mother, my dad raised me and Sam to be hunters. I killed my first werewolf when I was sixteen. How long have you been doing it?" he challenged.

"Longer than you," Spike snapped right back. Alright, so a greater part of his hunting practice had been hunting humans and slayers, but he'd always fought demons too, so technically, he didn't have to admit he'd only switched sides in the last decade and a half. "Let's just say we have different methods, then." 

Dean's nostrils flared. The man didn't look any older than he was but he wasn't going to argue that or point it out. "Fine," Dean said tightly. "Maybe it's different in England, but I'm right about these vamps. Maybe you have gone up against Dracula type vamps. Maybe there's more than one breed. But I know this type, I've gone up against them before. The lore is wrong when it comes to them. The only way to take them down is beheading. Nothing else fazes them, nothing else works."

"Maybe." There was only one way to know. "We'll find out soon enough." 

Dean nodded. "Yeah, we will. And you're gonna owe me a steak dinner when you find out I'm right."


	2. Chapter 2

The challenges hadn't gone well and six humans were already dead before the assembly was half over. The vampires talked among themselves and, the next thing Dean knew, go-go boots girl had ripped out his IV and was hauling him toward the stage.

 _Crap_ was pretty much the first thing that came to Dean's mind. "What, my blood didn't taste good enough to keep me around?" Dean said to her as she shoved him up onto the stage.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Maybe we don't like sarcastic asses."

"Then you gotta hate me, bitch. Tell me you're the one whose ass it is I get to kick."

The vampiress hesitated and looked around at the others. The muscular man that was supposed to have faced Dean gave her a shrug. She smiled at Dean. "I'm going to enjoy ripping your throat out."

"Bring it, Bitch," Dean said.

Dean glanced quickly around on stage as he backed up. There were some pieces from the obstacle courses that hadn't been removed yet, even a couple bodies, and the stage was slippery with blood. She charged Dean. Dean sidestepped, slamming the heel of his palm square in her back but she didn't go down like he'd hoped.

She hissed, showing her mouthful of teeth and slashed at him. Jumping back, he wasn't quite fast enough and felt blood well up on his chest. His t-shirt had two long cuts across it. Dean dropped down and swept the vampiress' legs out from under her. He used that moment's distraction to dive for a piece of splintered wood from a broken crate. Before he reached it, she was on him, grabbing him by the leg. She swung him around and slammed him into a studded tire.

"Sonuvabitch," he cursed, kicked her in the face, and managed to get loose from her. He scrambled up and tried to keep some obstacles between them. Dammit, he needed that piece of wood. 

Practically stumbling over a two by four, he stooped and picked it up. He still needed that sharp ended wood but at least he had a weapon of sorts. When she flew at him, he cold-cocked her across the face and she let out with a cry of surprise more than pain. She was already back on her feet before Dean had made it halfway over to the crate. Suddenly she was in front of him and she clocked him so hard he flew several feet through the air and slammed into the wall. He groaned, his head spinning. Spitting blood out of his mouth, he tried to climb to his feet, using the wall for support. He slowly crawled up it trying to shake off the blow, waiting to feel her teeth in his neck.

"Oh, the pretty boy got himself hurt," she sneered. She turned to the audience. "Anyone want to come help the pretty boy or shall I just rip his throat out now?"

Spike had been on the edge of his chair. He knew what happened if you spoiled their games, it meant punishment not just for you, but for others. It was as if these vampires made decisions on whims, it was part of why he thought they were on drugs. And that one there just proved it with her invitation. 

He pulled out his own IV and stood up, immediately feeling he was being shadowed by two vampires making sure he was getting on the stage. There was silence in the room; no one expected volunteers. Placing his hands on the edge of the stage, he jumped up onto it. His strength was definitely improving and he hoped it would be enough. 

"You keep calling him pretty. Must be because you've got nothing in that department, yeah? Come on then," he circled around, watching her expression darken with anger. "Let's dance."

He didn't have to ask her twice. With a screech worthy of a banshee, she came after him. Spike avoided a few of her blows, dodging them and diving backwards away from her. He'd gotten some of his speed back, that was good, but when he blocked a hit, it wasn't with ease or without pain. "Come on bitch, you can do better than that."

When she came at him again, Spike grabbed her shoulder and spun her around toward Dean. He'd seen that the hunter could fight and hoped he understood his moves. "Bloody hell, I think she likes you better," he mocked.

Dean couldn't believe Spike was stupid enough to come up on stage to help him, though Spike had said he had beat the vampires' games once before. They were playing deadly tonight, though, and Spike was just asking to get himself killed right alongside Dean. Still, Dean couldn't deny his relief.

When Spike made a present of her to him, Dean gave a solid uppercut to her stomach, then grabbed her head and shoved it down, bringing up his knee at the same time, slamming it into her face. "Can you blame her? I'm downright adorable."

She straightened up, blood pouring from her nose and fury in her eyes. Dean got in a left hook and the snap of her head sent blood droplets flying. "Keep her blood out of your mouth and wounds. Even one drop and you're one of them," Dean warned Spike.

She swung at Dean but he was getting a sense of her speed and reach at this point and managed to dodge. Unfortunately she hadn't opened herself up for a retaliatory strike. Dean worked his way closer to Spike. If she struck at one, it ought to give the other an opportunity to get in a hit. "What's with that miniskirt," Dean said to Spike. "Skank must think she's got something worth looking at."

"I'm going to tear you apart, there'll be nothing left," she said through clenched teeth, coming at them with increasing speed. Dropping to the ground, Spike swung his leg in an arc at her ankles and sprang back up just as she started to topple. His victory smile was short-lived. Throwing herself forward, she dug her long nails into his stomach, tearing his skin as the weight of her body pulled her down. Shouting with pure fury and pain, Spike kneed her jaw, then bent down and head butted her. Almost... he'd almost shifted to game face.

"Bloody bitch from hell," he said looking down at his torn clothing and putting his hand over the wound. The fight was over, the vampiress was down.

When she went after Spike with the obvious intent to kill him, Dean had known he had only one shot. He'd dove and grabbed two pieces of broken wood, jabbing them into one of the dead bodies to coat the wood with deadman's blood. The vamp might be down, but he knew how fast they could come back. He buried the wood into her back, right where her heart would be. "Stay down, you bitch," Dean snarled.

"Spike," Dean said and slapped the second blood-coated piece of wood into Spike's palm as he pulled his own out of the vamp and looked for escape. There was the door they'd come in through and another door on the far side. Vampires blocked both their routes of potential escape. He placed himself to Spike's back, readying himself for the vampires that were leaping onto the stage. 

"Far door," Dean hissed at him. It was a risk, an unknown, but that was where the dead bodies were usually taken out and maybe it was less heavily guarded.

Spike was looking with disbelief at the intact body of the vampiress. By all rights, she should have dusted when Dean staked her through the heart. Instead, she was laying there and moaning and still mouthing off threats. Far door. "I know I'm going to regret this," Spike muttered. It wasn't as if he hadn't considered all the ways to break out but, from the numbers of vampires he'd seen, unless he was at full strength, it was an impossibility. And even at full strength, it was questionable.

Grabbing Dean's shoulder, he pushed him ahead toward the door, jumping off the stage after him. He saw Dean dodge a few blows, then felt hands grab him. "Sod off," he pulled away and blindly punched a few people before it all went dark.

 

* * *

Using his shirt that he'd wet with water from his cup, Spike wiped the blood off Dean's chest and off the gash on his temple, then poured the water over his face. "Come on hunter, wake your arse up. Just got used to having you about, yeah? I don't want to have to break in a new cellmate."

Dean groaned and sputtered when he felt the water on his face. "What the fuck," he muttered as his eyes fluttered open. He sat up, looked at the shackles on his wrists and saw that they were still in the cell. "Guess we didn't make it," Dean said. 

"Not even close. I did get something that might have you excited," he added with a smirk. "If you're done with your beauty sleep."

"Hey, these looks don't need any extra beauty sleep. What did you manage to lay your hands on?" Dean asked with interest.

Pulling the waistband of his pants away from his body, Spike produced a safety pin. "If you're as good as you say, we might be out of here after dinner." He knew that was about the time that the vampires had their 'buffet' and other sorts of entertainment upstairs and thought it would be the best time to break out.

Dean broke into a grin. "I could kiss you--" he said then cleared his throat. "You know that's just an expression." Dean took the safety pin and began slowly, carefully, unwinding its spring. Safety pins were both good and bad. They were strong, but that also made them hard to bend. If you weren't careful, it was easy to snap them as you unbent them. And it was pretty easy to stab yourself, which he did a couple of times, cursing softly. After bending the pin, he slid it into the lock on one of Spike's cuffs. He needed to feel what sort of lock he was dealing with so he knew how to bend the pin properly to pick it.

"How's your stomach? Looked like she got you pretty good," Dean asked as he practically shut his eyes, carefully poking about inside the lock.

"Looked worse than it was," Spike answered. He still bore some red marks, but they were mostly healed. Hopefully the hunter wouldn't notice such details or there might be some explaining to do. "Let's not rush things. They're still going to be in and out of here," he said watching Dean work on the lock. "If they find you with the bracelets off now..." Tugging his hand, he paced away, and back. Although he was feeling optimistic, he knew how petty these vampires were and about vampire grudges. That bitch they'd taken down might want her revenge. He only hoped she waited until tomorrow, when they'd be long gone.

Dean glared at Spike as he pulled his shackle out of Dean's hand. "Dude, working here," he said with annoyance. "I was just checking out how the locks work. You said after dinner, so I figured we need to stay put until then. Safety pins can be brittle, gotta work 'em careful." He grabbed hold of Spike's shackle again and after poking inside at the mechanism a bit longer, nodded and pulled out the pin. He began a slow and careful bend of the pin, double checking in his own shackle a couple times. When Spike said 'go,' he wanted to be able to pop these locks instantly and for once he had the luxury to be exacting.

"Okay, we're good. I'd guess ten seconds a lock, say a full minute to get us both out of the shackles. So what's the plan? And why do you look so worried?"

"Not worried. Just try to hold back on the gloating until we're out. We don't need to get them any angrier than they are." He moved back and leaned against the bars. "How did you do it? Paralyze her? And why the bloody hell didn't you do it sooner?"

"Who me? Gloat?" Dean asked innocently, cocking an eyebrow, then grew more serious. "Poisoned her. These vamps, deadman's blood makes 'em weak as a newborn baby. I couldn't do it sooner 'cause I had to get a hold of something to jab into her, but I also had to get it coated with deadman's blood first. Stupid of them to leave those bodies on stage, even for the fear factor." He gave a sniff. "Course the real drawback to that is now they know I'm a hunter. And that could be bad. Real bad."

Spike shook his head. "I don't think they've figure it out. Looked like you were trying to stake her with wood." He gave a shrug. "The blood could be accidental. Play stupid if anyone brings it up. Are you all right to run?" At Dean's nod, he went on. "Right, we go out the same way we tried to leave. I saw an elevator and stairs. We send the elevator to the top floor, whatever it is, so if anyone's on the lookout, that will distract them. We take the stairs and find a way out of the building. No heroics, no matter what you see," he said, giving Dean a piercing look. "If we don't get out, no one else ever will." 

Dean nodded at Spike's plan. Sounded reasonable and their best shot. They knew people were on the floor above them. If the arena wasn't being used, hopefully it was empty. He gave a brief scowl at Spike's warning, but Spike was right. It would probably take both of them to get out or to make sure at least one of them got out. It sucked, but those were the facts. He undid the laces on one of his boots and slid the precious pin in the fold of the boot's tongue, working the tip into the leather a little. _That should keep it good and secure,_ he thought, retying the laces.

"Let me see your stomach," Dean said, wanting to make sure Spike wasn't being macho about his injuries. He didn't want to suddenly have the man go down because of it.

Before Spike could respond, they both heard the click-click-click of heels striking tile as well as others footsteps approaching. Looking up, they saw go-go girl and six vampires swarming the entrance to their cell. The smile she gave was pure malice.

"We've decided we want a little dinner-time entertainment, and you two boys are our lucky winners," she practically purred. "Try anything, fight, argue, _anything at all_ and we'll be dining on pregnant mommas and their delicious little newborns. Got it?"

Dean looked over at Spike then back to the bitch. "Yeah," he said and held his hands out for them to take off the cuffs.

She tsked and waved her finger in "no-no-no" fashion. Two vampires entered the cell and unfastened their chains from the walls, leaving the bracelets on them and grabbing the lengths of chain attached to each of them. 

"'Fraid we're gonna kick your ass again, cunt?" Dean asked.

She stepped up to him and smiled sweetly, dragging a long nail down the side of his face hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. "Oh, someone's ass will be getting it tonight, I promise you." Turning on her heels, she headed back down the aisle. "Bring them."

Spike exchanged looks with Dean, but managed to keep his mouth shut. The more they antagonized them, especially her, the worse it would be. He just hoped this wouldn't muck up their escape plans. The farther they walked, the more puzzled he became. If they were going to offer them up to guests to feed on, the empty cells next to the assembly was where it was done, but they moved past them. He tried to walk slower, but was pushed and then dragged by the chain. "Hold on now, what's the rush?" For that, he got a blow on the back of the head.

The vampires were muttering among themselves. From what they said, Spike gathered that their fight on stage had triggered vampire lust, and they'd liked it. He hadn't realized it back when he and Dean had been fighting Little Miss Go Go Boots, but now he was quite certain the cause of their blood lust had been the cuts to his stomach. He had no explanation for why the scent of his blood affected them that way, but it had happened before. He was just lucky they hadn't figured out that blood, his to be specific, was their trigger.

The two prisoners were led up the stairs into the mansion itself. What had once been an elegant and beautifully decorated house was now in broken disarray. Paintings were torn in their frames, pillows and cushions were haphazardly tossed about. There were scattered pills on a countertop, and some lines of what was surely cocaine that had yet to be sniffed up. A coffee table was broken in half next to a white couch now splotched with blood. The curtains were closed but Dean could see golden sunlight at the edges of the red fabric. 

They were led into a large room with a sunken wood floor. A lush white carpet was laid out over the floor. 

Both the prisoners were pushed to sit down on one of the many couches arranged around the sunken floor and their shackles removed. Dean wiped away at the blood on his face. The scrape from her nail was shallow, but facial cuts bled like a bitch.

"Maybe they're going to offer us coffee," Spike hazarded though he knew invitations to the upstairs usually meant you weren't going back down. It wasn't dinner time yet though, but who was to say they didn't pick their entrée’s early?

"Coffee? We'll do you one better," the vampiress waved at a fledgling who quickly brought them what looked like two glasses of wine. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, drink it," she said. "After all, you can't go on a romantic date without some wine and... candlelight."

The low lights cut out, and candle chandeliers were lit up. 

"Right, they've all gone mad now." Sniffing the wine, Spike took a drink.

"I prefer whiskey, thanks," Dean said.

The vampiress looked at him and shook her head. "No fighting, no arguing, nothing, remember? Or shall we bring up a mommy and stick some straws into her? I'm dying of thirst."

Dean gave a sour smile and took the offered wine. Red wine. If there was vampire blood in it he'd have no way to know. If they had impressed the vamps, maybe they planned to turn both him and Spike. If they did...then maybe he could get the prisoners out, even if he ended up snacking on a few in the meantime. But he could get them out and get himself out, let the hunters know about the nest...and come up with a way to decapitate himself. Yeah. Easy. 

Like Spike, he sniffed and then took a sip. Shit, he wasn't really a wine drinker but he knew good wine when he tasted it. This was high end stuff. He sipped it slowly, getting a little unnerved as all the vampires' eyes seemed to be focused on himself and on Spike. There were whispers and giggles, and a couple of the vamps were feeling each other up. He kept his game face on, but he was getting decidedly uncomfortable. God, he _hated_ being the center of attention.

Spike found staring back at the vamps had no effect. They just stood there, watching them as if they were the most interesting sight they'd seen in centuries. Clearly they were being toyed with and the game had yet to be revealed. "Let's get on with it, shall we?" He started to stand up when he found several vampires right behind him, one of them shoving him down and pushing him at Dean. "Bloody..." A little of his remaining wine sloshed over both of them. He pulled away from Dean and looked back at their audience. 

Apparently they'd been waiting for some additional prisoners to be brought up. All four of them were pregnant, some of them crying and protectively holding their bellies. 

"Do we need to give you a sample of how much we mean what we say?" The bitch asked, dragging a carving knife across the belly of one of the women. "I want an answer!" she shouted, pressing the blade.

"Please... please don't hurt my baby ... " The stunned prisoner's entire body shook, though her sobs were silent.

"No. No sample." Crystal blue eyes as cold as ice stared at the vampiress and Spike promised himself that he would take her out of this unlife with his bare hands and enjoy it.

Dean started to get up but quickly sat down when the woman was threatened. "Whatever you want," he said, giving the vampiress a look of death. He couldn't wait to behead the bitch.

The vampiress smiled, her eyes glittering. "Now that's the cooperative little lovebirds I want to see." Her face turned hard. "Finish your wine!"

Dean's gaze didn't waver from her as he upended the glass and drank the last of it.

Her gaze shifted to Spike. "Kiss him," she said, motioning toward Dean. "And I better see some tongue action."

Spike tensed. Suddenly, all the words she'd tossed out at them started to haunt him. Love birds. Girlfriend. Date. "It's not assembly," he said, not even stealing a glance at Dean. "Why?"

"Because I want to get off to you nailing your pretty boy. I want to see how long he can keep that smirk on his face."

Dean suddenly wished he had more wine, a lot more wine to drink. He looked at Spike who was staring down the bitch, then his gaze went to the pregnant women. He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth hurt. Ripped from the clutches of Hell only to find a new Hell on Earth. Alastair would be laughing his ass off right now. And just where the fuck was Castiel in all this? Dicks. Angels were dicks and useless pieces of shit. They were probably getting their jollies off on this too, watching, seeing Dean get a little bit more of his just rewards. He felt that dark gaping hole inside him grow a little bigger. He wondered if Spike did swing that way or if this was going to be as hard for Spike as it was for him.

"Just do it, Spike," Dean said quietly. He deserved this and so very much more for all the horrible things he had done in Hell. What was getting fucked one more time? It didn't matter. It just didn't matter anymore. He was going to die here, or become a vamp. Sam didn't know where he was and couldn't go up against these odds and survive anyhow. So much for God having work for him. Well fuck God and fuck all his angels.

Spike turned around and locked his gaze with Dean's. "It's not going to end with a kiss," he said quietly, knowing full well he was keeping the audience hooked on the drama. "That's just the beginning."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said, resignation in his eyes. "So tell me something, before you stick your tongue down my throat. You ever made love to a guy before?"

Spike felt something break inside him. Only it wasn't a part of him, it was Dean. The hunter's pain, his story. "Never one as good looking as you," he answered, placing one hand on the side of Dean's face. "Now don't get any ideas that I'm a bloody poofter, but..."

"Get on with it!"

The pregnant woman screamed then started to plead.

It was as if he never heard. Spike spoke only to Dean. "This I know how to do much better than that _other thing_ you think I know nothing about, yeah?" He moved his thumb across Dean's lips and noted the haunted look that was still in his eyes. "They want a show, let's give them one. Only it won't be the one they're expecting. You keep that smirk on your face, I'll help you." 

"I'd like to give those bastards a show like we did last night," Dean said, but the gentleness in Spike's eyes almost comforted him. All the times in Hell, it had ranged from demonic creatures to humanoids like Alastair. No kindness, no concern. Their intent had always been to cause Dean pain and themselves pleasure. He'd sucked cock that had gone so far down his throat he'd choked. Had the back of his throat punched through with the less than human demons. Had suffered the worst tortures of Hell while being buttfucked. They'd bring him to the edge but never let him come, never let him find anything but the overwhelming need for release. And then when he'd gotten off the rack, he had done the very same thing to the other damned souls. The very God-damned same thing.

His eyes stung with unshed tears. He wouldn't give these vampiric bastards the pleasure of knowing that this was one of the worst things they could do to him. The only worse thing would be to make him inflict torture on others, like he'd learned to do in Hell. 

Forcing his armor, his trademark smirk, on his face, Dean gave a small nod. "Don't worry about me, this is old hat," he said with bravado. "So you gonna show me how you got that name of yours?" he asked as he ran trembling fingers along Spike's face.

"Your mind is in the gutter. That's a good sign." He let Dean touch him, felt the slight shake in his hand as it skimmed over the surface of his face. "Paris Hilton. Close your eyes and think of her," he said, massaging Dean's shoulder then sliding his hand up behind his neck and slowly drawing him closer.

Dean managed a huffed laugh. "I'll try." He shut his eyes, trying to imagine just that but all that came to him were overwhelming images of Hell and his brain grabbed at them and hung onto them with a vengeance. His breath simply locked up and he stiffened, his hand on Spike's shoulder trying to push him away as he tried to pull back. A sound broke from Dean as he found Spike's hold unbreakable and he couldn't pull away. _He didn't want this!_ That was all he could think of, any thoughts of the threatened pregnant women gone from his mind. He heard the laughter as he struggled, laughter he'd heard for thirty years. "No," he begged softly.

"All right. No. No, I won't be kissing you, not unless you ask for it." Spike was trying to give the power of choice back to Dean, but after a moment, it was clear he wasn't getting through. "No, I won't be doing this, unless you ask," he said, firmly, but gently brushing his mouth over Dean's.

"Rip his clothes off. Fuck him," one vampire demanded. 

There were a lot of requests flung at them from the peanut gallery, but only the bitch with the grudge counted, and she'd said kiss. "Not going to give you my tongue, either," Spike said, tracing the contours of Dean's lips and then running his tongue across the seam of Dean's mouth.

It didn't matter what he asked, what he pleaded, Dean knew he had no choice. This was Hell. He was damned here for eternity. For Sam. So Sam could live. He kept waiting for the other tortures, waiting for the lash or brand or knife. Nothing came but a brush of lips and a probing tongue. If he...maybe if he cooperated...if he said yes...he'd said yes before hadn't he? He slowly parted his lips, unsure what sort of tongue he would find in his mouth. Barbed, forked, fire...he'd had them all. He waited for the pain, his eyes squeezed shut, wondering how bad it would be this time.

Using his thumb to pull on the corner of Dean's mouth, Spike leaned in and pushed his tongue into Dean's mouth. He stroked Dean's tongue, trying to engage it, and even when he couldn't, tried to make it seem like they were really kissing. He moaned, but it wasn't real, no more real than the kiss.

"Noooo!"

His head snapped around and one of the pregnant women was on the ground, bleeding from her throat. He started to get up when another was pushed forward. 

"I don't have the rest of my life for this. You moved fast enough during assembly, now move here. I said I want to see tongue, and I want to see skin. Rape the bastard if you have to, or both of you and all of the mommas... I'll have you spread on a long table and raped and eaten."

Dean's eyes opened at the sound of a woman's scream. Confused, he looked around, trying to piece together where he was, what was happening and then it all came rushing back. He saw the woman dead on the ground, blood still spilling from her throat. The bitch's words cut through Dean and he saw the next woman pushed forward, a knife at her throat. 

"Stop!" Dean yelled at them. "Don't hurt her." He used one hand to turn Spike's face back toward his own. "Closing my eyes. Bad idea," he said and pulled Spike into the hottest possible kiss he could. Another woman and child wouldn't die because of him and his weakness. He pushed his tongue into Spike's mouth, their tongues tangling. Dean's hands ran up Spike's back. He leaned forward a little so Spike could hold him, touch him.

A flash of unexpected heat went through Spike as Dean kissed him for real. The soft moan that sounded from the back of his throat was real too, even if it was accompanied by a flood of guilt. He knew they had no choice, but he also knew that any pleasure he got out of this was at Dean's expense. 

Dean couldn't deny one of his joys in life was pulling an unintentional moan out of the woman he was kissing. He was a damned good kisser and knew it. It was odd hearing a moan that wasn't feminine but that didn't change the way his cock twitched at the sound.

Spike gripped Dean's sides, running his hands up and down before moving them under his shirt. Muscles rippled under his palms, tensing and flexing. He could feel Dean stiffen and force himself to relax and stiffen again each time his hands moved to new territory. Breaking the kiss, Spike dipped his head down and kissed Dean's throat, sucking lightly on his flesh, moving his mouth back and forth. He moved over Dean's Adam's apple and gave it some attention as he started to move his hands over him again, slowly pulling Dean up as he got up off the sofa. He pulled Dean's shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, then drew him back into his arms.

As the man kissed him, Dean had to admit Spike was good, the way he kissed him and nuzzled his neck, drawing him to his feet with him hardly realizing it. He was the one who did that to woman, disrobing them while he kissed the hell out of them. And suddenly he felt flesh against flesh and realized his shirt was gone. When the hell...?

This time, Spike was determined to make Dean forget where he was. Sliding one knee between the hunter's legs, he pressed his thigh lightly against Dean's cock, just letting him know it was there as he slanted his mouth across Dean's and started to tongue fuck him. It was easy for Spike to block everyone, but he was aware of the groans and that the vampires watching them were losing their clothes too. But Dean... he wanted to protect him from that, and the only way to do that was to make Dean lose himself.

Dean moaned as Spike began to fuck his mouth with his tongue and put light pressure against his slowly hardening cock. He pulled Spike tighter against him and rubbed his groin against the thigh that offered pressure to his dick. His hands slid down from that muscular back to Spike's jeans-clad ass and pulled him up tight, beginning to groan with need.

Taking Dean's arousal as a good sign, Spike kept kissing him, moving his mouth back and forth, and swaying their bodies from side to side. He kept their bodies in motion, touching Dean everywhere, his face, his throat, his back and chest. He wanted to whisper things, to tell Dean he tasted good, that he felt good. He wanted to tell him this was okay, that they could be good together, fuck everyone else. But deep down, he knew the only way to help Dean was to make him forget who he was with. That meant the less he said, the better.

Fingers sliding into the front of Dean's waistband, Spike kissed his way down Dean's throat, causing Dean to throw his head back to give him access. Right then, he heard groans and curses from their audience and knew how Dean must look to them. If there had been a mirror in the room, he wasn't sure he could have resisted having a look himself.

Dean heard the sounds around him, the voices, but they were different, not the laughter, not even the filth when he fucked a damned soul. The voices were approving, if lustful. He didn't like to be the center of attention, but those lips working down him felt so good and at this moment he didn't care if others saw. He had always liked trying to get away with sex in public places when he was younger, and he wasn't beyond it now, though frankly beds were roomier and more comfortable. He liked too that there was only one set of hands on him, one set of lips. There was nothing better than doing it with the doublemint twins but he was in control then. Here, he wasn't and a part of him knew it so having only one person fucking him was something of a comfort.

He felt the hands at his waistband and reached down and popped the button open to give those searching fingers easier access. He was losing himself under the skillful attentions of...Spike. That thought made him tense, but then he felt fingers at one nipple while a mouth covered the other and he moaned, arching against that mouth and fingers tweaking and rubbing, turning his nipples into hard nubs. His hands went to his lover's head, holding him so his mouth stayed at his nipple. 

"Take me out," Dean said, beginning to run his fingers through his lover's hair.

The vampires gave catcalls, encouraging Spike to move faster, to suck Dean off, to throw Dean down and fuck him within an inch of his life. The vampiress who'd come up with this form of entertainment smiled and waved a fledgling over with a glass of wine. She nicked her finger with her teeth and saw the blood well on her skin. A couple crimson drops fell into the wine glass and she stirred it with her cut finger. 

"Wait until I tell you to take it to him," she told the fledgling. Looking around, she was pleased to see the other vampires in various states of undress, watching the two men and getting off. The finale would be sweet, so very very sweet.

Shoving Dean's shorts out of the way, Spike grasped his cock and pulled it out. The shuffle of feet told him people where moving to get better views. He wasn't ashamed, but he resented being the entertainment for these bastards and he hated what they were doing, making him do, to Dean. They were going to survive this, and then they'd teach this bunch a lesson.

Until then, Spike did the only thing he could, which was to try to make this good for Dean. Kissing his way down Dean's chest, he sank down onto his knees in front of him and started to lick his length. The strokes of his wet tongue were slow and deliberate. He listened to Dean's heart beats and to his breaths, using them as cues to know what worked, what gave the hunter the most pleasure and what sharpened his need. All of this, he used to whip up Dean's desire, licking him and then sucking him, moving his mouth up and down along his hard shaft. His hands cupped Dean's ass, kneading his cheeks over his jeans and ignoring the calls to pull the denim down.

The sounds of others fucking or wanking each other off filled the room. The scent of arousal, Dean's, his own, and everyone else's was almost overpowering. Spike struggled to maintain control, to make this about Dean and to be certain he felt as little pain or discomfort as possible.

Part of Dean knew exactly where he was and exactly what was happening. The hunter in him even listened for changes in sounds that might make him want to try to look beyond the candlelight and calculate a possible escape. Part of him wasn't sure where he was and that he was still in Hell was at the fringes of possibility. This was meant as punishment and humiliation...but in Hell it never felt this good. And there was no dreaming in Hell. There was rest and terror and nightmares, but no dreams. The last part of him was empty, had no desires, no hopes left. It was the burned out shell of what was left of him after forty years in Hell. That he didn't have to think, that he didn't have to do anything but feel the pleasuring of his body, it was a small blessing, a small light in that great maw of darkness that ate at him a little more every day. There was no little brother to protect here. There was no little brother to try to keep from falling into darkness. There was no father to hate, or feel he had disappointed or to beg for love and approval. There was no Bobby to look in the eye, to disappoint. There was no mother whom he barely remembered to miss. There was also no woman to please, to make squeal and pant and moan and then to escape from come morning. This was for him. This was all his.

He could tell from the gentleness of the touch of the lips on his dick and the tease of the tongue that Spike was enjoying it. He didn't hold that against the man. He should enjoy it if he was. He was amazed at the way Spike tested out different things and seemed to be able to tell right away if Dean liked it or not. It wouldn't end with the blow job... _nailing your pretty boy..._ The bitch wanted him hating this, and he did, even as he moaned, he hated the thought that he was going to be fucked and there wasn't a God-damned thing he could do to stop it. She wanted his smirk gone, and she'd won that... but he wasn't gonna give her that victory any longer.

Dredging up his smirk, he looked down at Spike, shocked to find how hot it was to see that good looking man taking his cock in his mouth. Blood surged into his dick at he watched Spike work him. His hips began to rock, wanting to push his cock deeper in the man's mouth but making sure that he didn't give the man any more than what he could take. This would not be like Hell, forcing his cock into one of the damned and pistoning as hard and deep and fast as he wanted. He remember then that, when he fucked the others, he _was_ permitted release and he remembered how damned sweet it was. Taking what he wanted and seeing their agony and tasting their terror. He wouldn't do that to Spike, wouldn't just use him.

As he carded his fingers through Spike's hair, their gazes met. Dean's smirk was in place but he made sure his eyes told Spike the truth. That it was okay. Whatever happened, there was no blame and there should be no guilt for him to carry. 

Spike wasn't sure what was going on in Dean's mind, but he caught the smirk. The bastards weren't going to win. It didn't matter how broken Dean was, that rebellious part of him that Spike had glimpsed a few times was here and would fight. Nothing could have made Spike happier at the moment, other than not being here at all. Hallowing his cheeks, he started to move harder and faster up and down Dean's shaft, his hands on the man's ass guiding him, showing him he could fuck his mouth. Still, though Dean thrust his hips, Spike could tell the hunter was holding back. 

"All right, fuck him already," the vampiress demanded, her own hand moving between her legs. She wanted to see Dean fight or beg, or break and he was ruining it now, ruining it for her even if it was just an act. "Do it or someone else will."

In a fluid motion, Spike rose up, not making it obvious that it was because of her order. He moved behind Dean, kissing his neck as he reached around and closed his hand around his cock, squeezing and stroking. "You've got one job, keep smiling, that's all," he said, wanting Dean to only concentrate on the one thing. He ground his own hips against Dean's denim clad ass, knowing Dean would now feel how aroused he was but it wasn't like he could hide it. He would be inside this man soon, and wanted him to be used to the idea first.

The bitch just had to ruin it. Dean had been more than ready to start fucking harder and release, though he'd try to make sure he gave Spike warning so Spike could pull off. The sudden loss of Spike's mouth made him groan. Spike's hand returned almost instantly to his saliva slick cock, easing Dean's need while at the same time ratcheting it up. When he felt Spike's lips on his neck, he tilted his head giving Spike all the access he wanted. Besides, he knew it would drive the vamps up the wall seeing Spike suck on his neck. The groans he heard made his smirk even more genuine.

Feeling Spike's hard cock pressed against his ass surprisingly didn't make him uncomfortable. They both knew what was going to happen, that neither had a choice in the matter, though he knew Spike was going to get a lot more pleasure out of it than he was. He wanted to get a bit of pleasure of his own though and his pleasure was pissing off the bitch.

He reached up to run his hand through Spike's hair and twisted, kissing the shell of Spike's ear. "Kiss me," he whispered. 

When Spike brought his lips to Dean's, Dean wasted no time and shoved his tongue inside Spike's mouth, fucking his mouth even as he fucked Spike's hand. He let go of Spike's head and reached down, shoving his pants lower. He focused on the kiss, trying to ignore the memories and fears of being raped again and again. The vampire bitch wanted him broken, wanted him wallowing and begging Spike to stop. No matter what he thought and what he wanted, those would not be the words that came out of his mouth. Infuriating her was probably a damned bad idea. Look where it had gotten him so far, but he didn't care. He really didn't figure he was walking out of here alive anyhow. Knowing that, and knowing that when he died he would be back in the clutches of Alastair, back on the rack for at least a few years until he once again faltered, this might be damned near the last bit of pleasure he got. Reaching behind him he undid Spike's jeans and unzipped them. He hesitated only a moment before reaching in and touching Spike's hard flesh.

Breaking the kiss, he whispered. "You better be as good at this as you say. How often do you get a virgin ass to fuck?"

If Spike included the days when he'd been the scourge of Europe, then the answer was _countless_. If Dean ever found out about those days, the rapes, the murders, it wouldn't be good. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he wondered how Dean qualified as having a virgin ass when he'd more than hinted that he'd been raped. Maybe the hunter was putting that behind him, just like Spike was putting his own past behind.

"It's not just the arse... it's who is attached to it that counts, yeah?" He stroked his knuckles across Dean's cheek bone, biting his lower lip as Dean's hand moved over his hard flesh. He really didn't need any more stimulation, he was trying to keep his own enjoyment to a minimum, and it would help him keep control. 

Hands at Dean's hips, he pushed Dean's jeans down, turning in irritation when he heard the vampire bitch screaming at him to stop.

"Bend him over the couch."

Spike's gaze traveled down her body, to the hand that moved between her thighs. He gave her a mocking look and, closing his arms around Dean, started to pull him behind the couch. The instant Dean put his hands on the back of the couch, a fledgling walked up to Spike and pushed a glass of wine at him. 

Spike tried to refuse but was ordered to drink it. Frowning, he took it and drained the entire glass. _Blood._ He turned his gaze to the vampiress and noticed her malicious expression and the way she was pleasuring herself faster. That's when he recalled Dean's warning about their blood, it could turn a human just like that. This sort of vampire didn't need to drain a human and then feed them their blood in order to turn them. Well she was in for a surprise then, wasn't she? She thought he'd turn on Dean during sex and feed on him. Diabolical bitch.

He smashed the glass against the wooden arm of the couch and ignored the vampires who watched him, expecting trouble. "Get away and let me get on with it," he snarled at the fledgling. 

As soon as the guy was out of the way, Spike spit on the tips of his fingers and leaning in, started to wet Dean's hole. Knowing the hunter was nervous, he used his other hand to grasp and stroke his cock, slowly getting him worked up again. 

Dean wasn't stupid. When Spike was given another glass of wine and he wasn't? He shut his eyes briefly. At least he wasn't being turned though he felt sorry that it would be Spike's fate. _Guess God decided I wasn't the right man for the job. Guess I did fail that test with Samhain._ When he opened his eyes again, he met the vampire bitch's gaze and his smirk turned evil, his eyes hard. "I'll see you in Hell, Bitch. I'll keep a special place on the rack open just for you and I'll make sure you end up there. On _my_ rack. And it'll be my games you'll be playing then. You're a fucking amateur. I'll show you how it's done right."

He hid his wince when he felt Spike's fingers at his hole, his eyes locked on the vampire bitch who looked slightly disconcerted by Dean's words. He moaned softly when Spike's hand continued to work his cock. He twisted his head then and looked back at Spike, trying to think through the pleasure of Spike's hand sliding up and down his shaft. "Sorry Spike. Sorry they chose you. Just do it before you lose control." He gave Spike a fresh smirk. "Try to jack me off before you kill me, huh? It'll be a helluva lot better way to go than being ripped apart by a hellhound."

Dean turned back around and braced himself. Braced himself for the pain of Spike's cock splitting him open, pain that would surely be followed up with Spike's teeth ripping out his throat. He whispered quietly. "Sorry, Sam. I fucked up. Again."

He felt the tears but wouldn't give the bitch the pleasure of seeing them. She would think the tears were because of Spike or because he knew he was going to die, when really, they were tears of regret for failing Sam this last and final time.

"Get it over with!" he yelled at Spike.


	3. Chapter 3

Too smart, the hunter was too fucking smart and had figured out their plan. There wasn't a bloody thing Spike could do to offer him comfort. He tried to go slow, but Dean pushed back until Spike's finger was fully inside him. Spike tried to kiss Dean, leaning over him, seeking out his mouth, but Dean rebuked him. Once again telling him to just do it.

As if it wasn't bad enough that he was going to fuck the hunter who didn't want this in the first place, now the hunter also thought Spike was his death warrant. Sliding one hand across the back of the couch, Spike pressed his palm over the shards of glass he'd left balancing there. He put his weight on it and didn't stop until there was a steady trickle of scarlet from his palm. 

Pulling his finger out of Dean, Spike closed his eyes and pumped his own cock a few times needing to get hard again. Aligning his cock to Dean's hole, he started to push inside, gripping the hunter's hip with his bleeding hand and continuing to stroke his cock with the other. He knew Dean was nowhere near open enough to take him without pain, but the game had been changed. Dean was impatient, the vampires were impatient, and Spike needed to do what he could to set up the situation to their best advantage.

"Sorry. This wasn't the way I'd have chosen to--" Before Spike could finish the apology he was whispering in Dean's ear, the hunter pushed back against him with a violence Spike had not expected. Biting his lip, he pushing himself the rest of the way inside the hunter, knowing he was tearing him up, knowing it by the scent of Dean's blood and his reactions.

Dean wanted the pain, wanted something to distract him from his imminent death. He knew he had surprised Spike and fuck, it hurt like a bitch. He hadn't quite contained his cry of pain as he felt the damage done. Wasn't like he was going to feel it long though.

Spike started to pump, making a show of it but not pulling out, not moving too far in or out of Dean's ass. "Move with me," he snapped, knowing the pain would be less if they moved together and it only looked like he was penetrating Dean over and over. The hunter was tight, his 'virgin ass' was so bloody tight around Spike's cock that even without much movement, Spike was getting a lot of pressure. Fighting his needs was getting more difficult too.

He would like to deny that the cries of pleasure from those around them weren't affecting him, but it would be a lie. Forcing himself to concentrate on Dean, he squeezed and stroked the hunter's cock, moving his hips in time with Dean's and trying like hell to give the hunter at least a bit of pleasure by finding his prostate.

Spike's constant hand on his cock did help, it did offer some distraction, though Dean's erection had started to wane because of the pain. Spike's renewed efforts were quickly bringing him back, getting him hard even with the pain. Then Spike did something that sent a spasm of pleasure through Dean he hadn't expected. He realized Spike's cock had brushed over that sensitive nerve cluster of his prostate. He knew about it. Any man who got a hand up the ass by a doctor knew about it, but he hadn't expected the intense pleasure. He moaned, even through the pain, and spasmed, clenching tight around Spike, throwing his head back. Holy crap. He would have laughed if he could have. To have discovered just how pleasurable a spot it could be right as he was about to die... Winchester luck sucked ass.

The volume rose in the room. There was a qualitative difference between how the vampires were acting before and how they were acting now. They paid less and less attention to Spike and Dean, and got more and more frenzied in their own activities. All but one, she was still watching and waiting.

Although it still hurt, Dean was determined to feel more of that pleasure, as much as he could before his throat was a bloodied mess. Looking at the vampire bitch, he grinned. "Better than I ever dreamed, bitch," he panted out.

He began to move counter to Spike, letting the pleasure outweigh the pain. He practically forgot where he was, he practically forgot everything. He wanted only to concentrate and feel and drink up as much pleasure as he could before ending up back in Hell for the rest of eternity. 

Spike didn't know just when Dean stopped moving in tandem with him and instead started to make it real, this real. But there it was, he was fucking Dean, slowly, carefully, but fucking him. He couldn't let himself go, he wouldn't. He clung to his control, reminding himself constantly of how they'd gotten to this point, and he refused to move faster or harder even when Dean demanded it. Instead, he moved his hand faster, sliding some of his fingers over Dean's balls, giving him other sensations to contend with.

His eyes were half closed, but he was watching the vampires, satisfied that vampire lust was setting in. But her gaze was still on him. Bloody bitch Suddenly, he gripped Dean's shoulder with his bloody hand and dipped his head down into the curve of his neck. "Shout, make it real," he snarled the order, having seen that Dean did not take well to them. "Scream like you're in pain," he shook his head around, so it looked like he was tearing Dean's throat.

Dean was lost in the pleasures Spike was giving him when he felt the hand on his shoulder. This was it. The dance was done. Damn Spike for not have at least finished bringing him off. Spike's words confused him at first as did the wet hand he felt on his neck. Spike hadn't turned yet, he realized suddenly, and understood exactly his intent. Screaming death cries. Yeah he remembered those even though it was forty years ago. Even more, he remembered the screams ripped from his throat during his thirty years on the rack.

He let out a howl of agonized pain. He bit his own lip bloody, letting it flow from his mouth and giving gurgling coughs as best he could. She would be able to hear his heart beat though and he wondered how the hell Spike was going to cover that.

Spike started to fuck Dean hard, like he was in blood lust, like he was going to tear Dean apart from the inside. When he finally saw the bitch push a fledgling to the ground and mount him, Spike abruptly pulled out of Dean. Clamping his hand over the side of Dean's head so that he wouldn't pull away, he started walking backwards, making it appear as if his teeth were still imbedded in Dean and that he was dragging him by his throat.

By the time they were out of the room and he released Dean, the vampires had started to feed on each other and on the pregnant woman who was screaming. Seeing Dean take a step toward the room, Spike shoved him back. "Pull up your pants and let's get out. Now, hunter," he gave Dean a warning look as he tucked himself inside his jeans and zipped up.

Dean took a final look toward the room. They'd agreed no heroics. They had no idea if these were all the vampires or not. Getting out and calling in help was the only real hope these people had. He wondered what the vampiress would do when she found Spike and Dean gone. Probably assume Spike took off on his own after finishing Dean. Typically the newly turned stayed as part of the nest, but not always.

Dean did as Spike told him and followed Spike down a couple halls and into a pantry with a door that lead outside if the curtained window was anything to judge by. Spike started to slow and Dean shoved him forward. Dean practically ripped open the door and grabbing Spike's arm hauled him outside in the warm sunshine. Dean grinned when he saw they were overlooking the town and the motel and bar were just down the hill. "My baby," he murmured, seeing his Impala gleaming black in the parking lot.

Turning to Spike, he was baffled by the look of stunned amazement on the man's face. He grabbed Spike by the arm. "Dude, they may not all be fucking each other senseless. Let's go. That's my car down there." He tugged Spike toward a foot trail he saw, one probably used by the vampires to go down to the bar below.

If it weren't for the fear of getting dragged back into that house of horrors, Spike would have dropped onto his knees and stayed down. And if it weren't for Dean's pulling him along, he might have been frozen in place long enough to get caught. He was having trouble comprehending it, this, that his flesh not burning, not going up in smoke in the bright sunlight. 

Wordlessly, he allowed himself to be dragged, almost falling once until he came to his senses. This would have to wait. Just as he'd insisted Dean would not play hero, Spike couldn't play the fool. Pulling his arm away, he gave a nod. "Car. I'm right behind you." 

Every once in a while, he looked up the hill, but no one was following. He wouldn't be surprised if no one had ever escaped that place. 

They finally reached the parking lot level and hit the asphalt. Someone sweeping the area outside the bar looked at them, gripped his broom tight and backed into the bar. Looking at Dean, and then at himself, Spike knew it was because they were a mess in their half dressed and bloodied states. He tried the door to the car and figuring Dean did not have the key, prepared to break the window with his elbow.

"Whoa! Dude!" Dean said and yanked Spike away from his car. "Keys are in my room." He waved his hand toward the motel room he never got to actually use except to put his stuff in. He'd left his keys beside his charging cell phone. He twisted the doorknob and put his shoulder into it and though the door gave some, it didn't open. Spike pushed him out of the way and Dean saw he twisted the knob hard and the door opened. Huh. Crappy locks.

Dean strode quickly inside, grabbed his duffel, keys, phone and charger. He walked back out to the car, unlocked the passenger side door for Spike, went to the trunk and, after a moments hesitation, slid a machete down into his duffel. Pulling on a t-shirt, he grabbed an extra one for Spike, a towel, some bottles of water and protein bars. He saw Spike had already unlocked his door. Opening the door and reaching around, Dean unlocked the back door and set his duffel on the floorboard, sliding the machete beside the driver's side seat and door. He dropped the water, towel, extra t-shirt and protein bars in the front seat, then took the driver's seat and started the car. Wasting no time, he peeled out of the parking lot and took off down the road.

Opening one of the waters, he guzzled it down, then ripped open a protein bar. He hadn't much more than devoured it before picking up his phone and calling Bobby. He told Bobby about the nest, the size of it, and the number of prisoners. It would be a major operation involving over a dozen hunters to take down that nest. Since Dean and Sam weren't exactly on the hunters' most loved list, Dean agreed it was best if he stayed out of it.

Shifting uncomfortably from his bloodied and aching ass, he finally glanced over at Spike. "How you feeling?"

"Hungry," Spike said, dragging his gaze away from the column of Dean's neck. Starved is what he really was, and really, he had no immediate prospects of finding a butcher. Taking one of the bottles, he twisted the top open and forced himself to drink the water.

Dean saw the lingering look Spike gave his neck. Had Spike already turned? Lenore's group didn't eat humans. Maybe Spike...maybe Spike could stay 'vegetarian.' Dean suspected Sam still had Lenore's contact information. If Spike was freshly turned, maybe if Dean could keep Spike from snacking on people as his first taste of blood, maybe it would help. If Spike didn't go all bloodlusty on him, maybe he wouldn't have to kill Spike. Spike had helped him and he didn't want to have to be Spike's executioner. The man had saved them both but what hunter would want to be a vampire?

Dean gripped the steering wheel, trying to decide what to do. When he saw some cows near a fence, but the house was a good distance up a dirt road and there were some intervening trees, he pulled the car over and grabbed his hunting knife from beneath the seat. Handing it to Spike, he looked at the cows, then back at Spike. He turned away then, cranking the volume on his radio a bit, waiting to see what Spike would do.

Spike looked at the knife, then at Dean. "End of the road?" A muscle twitched in his jaw as he tried to think. Between hunger and his awe at being outside during the day, he wasn't thinking too straight, but that didn't mean the hunter wasn't. Dean must have decided he'd turned or would turn, and was giving him a chance to get away. 

Dropping the knife down onto the seat, he pulled the door open and bent to take the t-shirt. He pulled it on and gave Dean a salute. "Right then. You have your demons to fight, and I owe someone payback." He remembered Dean's promise to help him with that, but that was before Dean thought he'd been vamped. "Try not to get caught again, yeah? Goodbye, Winchester."

Shutting the door, Spike started to walk away, his face tilted up toward the sun. He had to be bleedin' dreaming this.

Dean opened the car door when what Spike said sunk in. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Dean yelled at him. "You said you were hungry. Eat and get your ass back in the car." While Dean wished he could let Spike just walk away, he couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk another death because he fucked up. He'd have to stay with Spike, watch him, and make sure he didn't go all bloodlust, chow-on-humans vampire.

Turning, Spike looked at Dean, then at the cows. Wordlessly, he headed for them. So he wasn't being tossed on his arse, but the hunter was angry. Getting back into that car could be dangerous business, he realized that, but then why would Dean care if he fed?

The gnawing in his stomach suddenly replaced all thoughts. He tried to shift to game face, but when he touched his face, there was no change. What the fuck? But the moment he thought about quenching his thirst, sharp teeth exploded into his mouth, different than what he was used to, but they would do. Moving out of Dean's view, he grabbed one of the cows and chose the softest spot on its hide, on its neck.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked back to the car. There wasn't a speck of blood on his mouth or elsewhere. Almost warily, he got into the car, and pulled the door shut. "Where are we going?"

Dean turned the radio back down a notch. "A good distance from that fucked up place. Once they get your scent, they never forget it. We'll find a motel and hole up for a few days." Dean was silent for a few minutes. "Remember I told you I let a nest go? That they didn't feed on humans?" He glanced over at Spike and could see how leery of him Spike had become. "I'm thinking maybe we can track them down, get you hooked up with them. Keep you on the straight and narrow. Is that something you'd want? Or...you were a hunter...if you don't want to...live...like something you hunted, I get it. I can...take care of things for you." 

Dean knew he was taking a big damned risk. If Spike decided humans were more to his liking then Dean would probably be first on Spike's menu. He just couldn't not give the guy a chance. Spike had handled his bloodlust for a good half hour or more. If he had that sort of control, Dean thought it showed promise that Spike could maybe keep himself from going after humans. "So what do you think?"

He was trying to deal with the changes, understand what it meant to be a different sort of vampire, and now Dean was offering to kill him as a favor. The blood shot straight to his temple. "What do I think, I think you're a bloody idiot, that's what I think," he snarled. "There is no were. I am a hunter, I was a hunter, I will continue to be a hunter. I'm no different than I was when you were perfectly happy sharing a cell with me. A few changes maybe." He put his hand out, watched the sunlight dance on his skin, and looked back at Dean. "I don't need anyone to keep me on the straight and narrow, I've lived it for a decade."

"Dude. Dead. Undead. Whatever. Wanting blood for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That's kind of a big..." He blinked, slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. "What the hell do you mean you've lived it for a decade?"

Hand on the dashboard, Spike cursed. "If you keep stopping every five minutes, we're never getting anywhere are we?" The hunter's gaze didn't shift off his face. "Right. You didn't think I was on a no-food, no-drink, no-pissing diet lifestyle, did you? I'm that other sort of vampire that you think doesn't exist. Or I was. Not sure what I am now." He blinked and stared right back at Dean. "But I do know I don't need any supervision and I definitely don't need any assisted suicide."

Dean had, of course noticed that Spike didn't eat those couple days, but he thought he saw Spike drink some water, maybe not a lot, but some. He'd assumed Spike pissed when Dean was asleep. 

"You drank the orange juice after the bloodletting, when they made you," Dean pointed out. "And the food was rank. After three weeks of that crap, I'd probably want to skip a couple days especially if my cellmate was starved." He shook his head, trying to take it all in. He gave Spike a hard look. "Put yourself in my boots. What if I'd been the one they turned? Would you let a newly turned vamp out on his own until you were sure I was safe? Would you offer to take me down if I didn't want to go on being something I hunted? Don't you dare get all fucking high and mighty on me. The first fucking thing I offered was to get you hooked up with vamps I knew didn't hunt humans, ones who could help you through this change!" Glaring at Spike he added. "So you were a-a-a Dracula vamp," he said, not sure he really believed it. "Now you aren't. Are you one hundred percent certain the hunger won't be different, the needs won't be different?" he demanded. "What did you survive on before? The living or the dead? Deadman's blood is poison to their kind. What if it is to you now, too?" 

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't bloody well know!" Spike's voice rose as he answered the questions Dean fired at him. "There are changes but I still feel like me, yeah? The rest of it, I'll figure out as I go. Not as if I have choice, is it? And who in their right mind drinks deadman's blood," he gave a visible shudder. "You must be thinking of buzzards not vampires, at least after the blood has cooled." He fell silent for a moment, not knowing what was expected. "Just drive, Dean. Get us somewhere not here and I'll be out of your hair." If his strength were all back, he could just leave. The truth of it was, he wasn't ready to be all alone yet.

Dean could see how upset Spike was, but hell, who could blame him? 

"Yeah," he put the car in gear and pulled back out on the road. "You saved my life back there, you did what you could to try to make what they did easier. You helped keep me together in more than just one way. I'm not gonna forget that. You helped me through that and I'm gonna give you whatever help you need to get through this. As long as it takes." 

Spike hadn't expected much. Sure he'd realized Dean was loyal and would go to great lengths to go the mile for someone he liked or at least thought he owed. But it had also been just as clear to him that this loyalty would not extend to vampires. After the treatment he'd received at the mansion, really, Spike couldn't fault him if his hatred for all things vampire only deepened, and that included himself. Moved, and yet uncertain how much of what Dean said he could rely on, Spike merely nodded. 

Glancing over at Spike, Dean asked quietly, "So if you were a Drac-vamp, when's the last time you walked in the sun or saw a sunset?"

"Without my skin smoking?" It made a difference. Spike had walked, or run, in the sun with blankets on top of him to get to a car and such. He thought back to that night when Drusilla had changed his life, thought of the date on the newspapers reporting his mother's death. "1880." There was a bit of a tense silence, one he didn't like. "You could at least say I look good for my age," he said, staring ahead, out of the window. 

Dean was still processing the date. Spike was about one hundred and fifty years old, if you included his time as a human. Spike's comment sounded a little strained and Dean smirked at him, hoping to ease the tension. "You don't look good for your age....You look damned good for your age." Shaking his head, he added, "Damn, can't believe there are really vamps like Dracula. And that the Slayer is for real. And that you worked with her. That's fucked up. No offense." Dean glanced down at his phone and gave a sigh. He really needed to do it now. Picking the phone up, he hit speed dial one. He held it up to his ear and listened to the ringing. On the third ring, Sam answered.

"Dean, where are you? Are you okay?"

The sheer concern in Sam's voice made him practically wince with guilt. "Yeah, Dude. I'm okay. I ran into a friend, needs a little help for a couple days, maybe a week. I'm not blowing you off, but I gotta stick around and help him out. I'm in Tennessee right now."

"Dean, look, I'm sorry. I won't ask about Hell again."

Dean was silent for a moment. He could imagine Sam, with his brow creased, and looking at him with those hazel puppy dog eyes of doom, begging for forgiveness and looking so damned young, hurt and innocent. "Yeah. Okay. I'll tag up in a day or so. Watch your back."

"Dean?" Sam said quickly, hoping Dean wouldn't just hang up on him again.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I'm done. I swear. No more," Sam said emphatically.

"Good," Dean said, but there wasn't much emotion in his voice. He didn't know whether to believe Sam or not. Sam had been lying to him since he got back from Hell. "I'll talk to you soon. And go get laid or something. You sound tense."

He heard Sam's almost relieved laughter and smiled a little. At least he could still make Sam laugh. Even if he fucked up everything else, he could do that. "Later Sam."

He ended the call before Sam tried to say anything more and then tossed the phone onto the seat. "You need to call anyone, go ahead." He tilted his head and gave Spike a crooked smile. "Even in Rome. Just keep it short if you do, huh?"

Glancing at the phone, Spike shook his head. "I don't have a probation officer to check in with, it's the way I like it." He tried not to imagine Red gasping over his ability to walk in the sun, or Xander's sun tanning jokes. "Thanks."

Hell? The word had been spoken clearly, yet it was hard for Spike to believe. Not because it was impossible, but because the chances of getting out were so slim. Clearly it wasn't something Dean liked to speak about, but he did dream of it. He had dreamt of it that night Spike had to awaken him and he'd admitted to having been raped. Right, it was probably for the best not to bring it up now. 

"Your friends, the ones you called. You sure they can handle the nest?" Spike had been in shock earlier and hadn't asked questions. "Will they need a hand?" 

"Bobby? Nah. As much as I know we both want to rip that bitch's head from her shoulders, best we stay out of it. Bobby has all sorts of hunter contacts. He'll take in a small army. Me and Sam, they're not really a big fan of us anymore so with that many hunters, probably a bad idea for me to be there. 

Dean was silent for awhile but glanced discreetly at his watch periodically and cranked up the speed. He stopped for gas and had Spike do the filling while he went inside and paid. He returned with a twelve pack, ice, chips and a few other odds and ends. The sun was getting closer and closer to the horizon and he finally pulled off on a dirt road and took the hairpin turns probably a little faster than he should have but once he got to the top he grinned at Spike. "C'mon Dude. First time in 130 years you've been able to see a sunset. Thought we ought to do it right." 

Motioning Spike to the front of the car as he grabbed the food he'd bought for himself at the gas station and a couple beers and went up to join Spike. He opened his beer with his index finger, it making a distinct hiss and took a long draw off it before he unwrapped and bit into one of the sandwiches he'd bought.

The view was breath taking. The trees were in a full blaze of late autumn color, though some had already dropped their leaves, the hills rolling away as far as the eye could see, some low lying fog settling in the valleys. There wasn't a house to be seen. Some thin cloud cover on the horizon began to slowly turn golden, then pinks, purples and oranges colored the sky as if a paint brush had been dragged across it.

Dean remembered this place from years back and would have been surprised it was still here if he didn't make a point to come here anytime he was in the area. He remembered his Dad bringing him here. Sammy was five. They'd eaten cold fried chicken and tossed a softball until the sun began to set. They'd sat and watched it, then watched the stars slowly begin to fill the sky overhead. It had always been a special memory for him and a special place to come. He didn't know why exactly he wanted to share it with Spike, but if the man hadn't seen a sunset in so many years, he couldn't think of a better place to watch one.

Leaning back and taking in the view, Spike muttered. "Thought you'd gone mad, the way you pulled off the road and drove to nowhere." Rubbing his hand over the top of the can, he nodded, then smiled. "It's beautiful. Almost enough to erase that place, to remind you that there are good things. Beauty. The sort that can inspire you, restore you." Looking down, he popped a can of beer open and cautiously sipped. Most vampires he knew didn't have a taste for food and drink, but he'd always been a bit of an exception. He pulled the can from his mouth. "Thank you," he looked over at the hunter and was only a little surprised that he saw as much beauty in those golden green eyes as he did in the sunset. Biting his lip, he looked away and lifted the can to his mouth again. 

 

* * * 

They'd driven for another four hours before Dean finally pulled into the lot of a motel. It was small, with maybe ten or twelve rooms. The neon light above it was on the fritz. Spike didn't care what it looked like on the inside, it would have to be better than where he'd been a 'guest' for the past few weeks.

It turned out appearances were deceptive. Once they checked in, he found the room was quite nice. There were two double beds, a nice sized telly and a small dining room area. It even had a tiny patio, which would work out perfectly since he didn't want to hear the hunter complain if he wasn't a smoker. 

Dean announced he was going to take a nice long shower. When Spike told him he was going to go out to get cigarettes and a few other things, he sensed the hunter's hesitation. Telling Dean to lighten up and pointing out he wouldn't have ridden with him for four hours, until his arse was bloody flat, if he planned to disappear on the man, he left. He'd wanted to make the point that the hunter was not going to be his 'keeper' and the fact that Dean didn't follow him out showed Spike that the point had been taken.

A half hour later he returned with smokes and a few items of clothing stuffed in a small duffel bag. He'd 'borrowed' them from some closed stores and he'd also pinched some money off a rich bloke who'd never miss it. Just as he was dropping the duffel bag down next to his bed, Dean came out of the bathroom.

Spike's gaze swept over his half-naked form, lingering for a moment where the towel slung low at Dean's waist. Pulling his gaze away before thoughts of licking droplets of water off the hunter's chest took too firm a hold, he toed off his boots. "Nice to get the grime off, yeah?" Turning, he barely glanced at Dean as he passed him and went to take a shower himself.

Vampires didn't need showers, but he'd always enjoyed some human rituals. Besides, it would allow Dean to get dressed or get into the bed without Spike being there to watch. That might spare both of them.

A short time later, Spike got out of the shower, dried off and pulled on the shorts he'd brought with him. Walking into the room, he grabbed one of the new tee shirts, pulled it on, and turned to ask Dean if they were going out, and if not, was that rattling sound really necessary? What he saw had him stunned. Dean had his eyes closed, his sheets covering him to the waist but his chest was bare. The bed was shaking and Dean was wearing a smile like he was in heaven or on the verge of orgasm. 

Spike's stomach clenched. He should go out, leave for a while, do something... something physical. 

Dean was more than a little disappointed when the magic fingers machine shut down. He was out of quarters. He hadn't had that many to start with, though he had tried to make it a practice to keep a roll of quarters in the car, he just hadn't done that since he got back from Hell. Letting out a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes and found Spike looking at him with surprised or even shocked written all over his face.

"Magic fingers," Dean said with a grin, jerking a thumb toward the machine. "Gotta get more quarters tomorrow."

It had felt nice that shaking, vibrating bed, easing away some of the tension. Would have been better if he'd pulled out his music player, but he was too tired to go digging for it. After the past couple days of horror, Dean kinda felt like he'd just crawled out his coffin all over again. He was tired as hell, but really didn't want to go to sleep, afraid of what he would see when he shut his eyes. The thought of curling up with a warm body was attractive to him, reassuring even. He looked at Spike and debated. He didn't want anything more than something to hang on to while he slept. Even when his father had died, giving up his soul for him, he wasn't this shaken. When he'd first got out of hell, all he really needed was to hear his brother's slow steady breathing in the next bed, something constant from his life from before. But Sam wasn't here. And Spike was a vampire...didn't breathe for any reason other than to talk and smoke. When Spike went to sleep, there would be no sounds coming from him. The room would be dark and Dean would feel so alone.

He was not touchy feely, and in almost any other situation he wouldn't ask, but he was...no, he would not admit he was scared. He was just shaken up. And at the moment, even with Spike being a vampire, he didn't care. He needed something, someone, so desperately, and hoped like hell it would keep some of the nightmares at bay. He'd drank some of his bottle of Jack, but he knew even a drunken stupor wouldn't help him tonight.

"Spike, would--" he hesitated and looked away. He sucked at this, at admitting he needed anything or anyone. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't want to sleep alone tonight. I just...I want someone next me. Nothing else. Just someone there. Would..." he swallowed hard and looked up at Spike, his eyes begging Spike to understand without him having to explain, and for Spike to understand how hard it was for him to ask this. "Would you sleep beside me?" he finally said in a rush.

Beside. Not 'with.' Spike wrapped his mind around that concept and told his body to behave. "An invitation to a slumber party, how can I resist?" Right, that was going to be the hundred thousand dollar question, how was he going to keep his hands to himself? "Move your arse over, Winchester. And I hope you're not the sort to steal all the blankets."

Relief welled into every fiber of his body and the breath rushed out of him. Dean immediately moved over to give Spike room to settle down beside him. Since Hell, he'd only been with that one chick that he lost his 'renewed virginity' to, and to have someone in the bed with him struck such a deep chord of need inside him. He didn't care it was a guy tonight. He also knew he needed a little bit more than just feeling the weight in the bed. "Can I...crap...can I maybe sleep next to you with..." he huffed and felt his cheeks redden. Shit. When the hell was the last time he'd blushed? He wasn't sure he could ever remember blushing. "What I'm trying to ask is if it would be alright if I, maybe sort of, held onto you."

Was Dean trying to kill him? Right, he was already dead, but that was a technicality. Spike swallowed and opened his arm, putting it around Dean so the man could roll closer and lay on his chest. "The last time I offered, you almost had a fit. Didn't even know I was a vampire then." Or that he swung both ways. "I'll take this as a compliment," Spike said. That, or intentional torture. He closed his eyes as he felt Dean's warm body against his, Dean's clean fresh scent making him slightly dizzy with thoughts of doing much more than just laying here.

Dean had planned on sort of maybe spooning up to Spike, resting an arm over his shoulder and chest, just to have a person to hang on to while he tried to sleep. He felt a little awkward, feeling kinda chickish but Spike was generous enough to let Dean use him like this so he wasn't going to bitch about it. He moved over into Spike's arms and rested his head against Spike's shoulder and put a leg between Spike's legs, mostly because it was the most comfortable position.

"I didn't have a 'fit'," Dean said. "I just prefer to be the one with the arm around someone's shoulder. Big brother syndrome. If someone told me a week ago that I'd be laying in the arms of a guy, let alone a vampire, I'd have told them they were fucking nuts, it wouldn't happen. Ever. But--" he gave a small shrug, "you don't mind and I don't want to be alone tonight." He snuggled in a little closer, though he would vehemently deny he was snuggling. He was just getting more comfortable. "Thanks Spike," he said softly.

If someone had told Spike a few weeks ago that he'd be laying in a bed with a bloke that looked like Dean, just to sleep, he'd have told them they were bleedin' nuts. Even now, he wanted to tell Dean Winchester he was off his rocker for expecting him to just lay still while he inserted his leg between Spike's and slept on his shoulder, with his warm breaths fanning Spike's throat. "Our secret. It never happened," Spike answered a bit tightly as he reached over to the nightstand and shut off the lights. It was early, but they both needed a good rest. It was looking more and more to him like only one of them would get it.

*  
Alastair stood over him, his sharp teeth gleaming in the red light of fire and flames. "Really Dean, one of my best students and still you stay on the rack. You've said 'yes' before. Isn't it time to get off and do what you were born to do?"

"Fuck off," Dean growled. He had failed before, he wouldn't again. He would hold onto his humanity. That thought was lost to his screams as the skin was peeled layer by layer from his body an inch at a time. The 'rest' in between the tortures was almost as bad. The anticipation of when the tortures would begin again, of how creative Alastair or one of his cronies would get this next time would gnaw at him and ratchet up his fear. Time...time was hardly a concept in Hell. The torture went on for hours or days, ripping him apart only to have him be whole again once they had obliterated his body just so they could start anew. There were breaks, breaks he considered the end of the 'day,' but the accompanying 'night' was always too short.  
There was no food to fill his painfully empty stomach, no drink to quench is unbearable thirst. Just a break, a rest. His head would fall forward and he would shut his eyes in something resembling sleep, but there were no comforting dreams. The nightmares were almost as bad as reality. Sometimes they were worse.

"Sam's coming along nicely, darker than you could ever imagine of that sweet innocent brother whose memory you hold onto." Alastair laughed. "Soon his eyes will be as dark as the deepest black and there'll be no love left in his heart. Just anger and hate. I'm certain he'll be here to visit you soon. The brother you failed. He might have made it to Heaven if you'd let him die instead of selling your soul to us. He might have made it there if you'd done as your father asked and killed him. But now, the Boy King is becoming one of us, ready to pick up his scepter and come into his own. He'll be a glorious leader," Alastair crooned. Dean wasn't certain which was more painful. All the tortures of Hell, or the knowledge he had damned his brother by not letting him go.

The 'waking' was always abrupt, fire breathed down his throat as his mouth was ravaged by some demonic creature, his insides torn and shredded by cocks that were too large for his hole, his body rocked brutally as they fucked him while he screamed in agony, as his body was gnawed on and eaten away. It was one of the many ways a day began on the rack. There were days when demons who looked like Sam tortured him and fucked him. Sometimes it was his father, his mother, Bobby, or any number of his friends and acquaintances through his years on Earth.

He didn't know how long he told Alastair to fuck off but finally, he nodded mute agreement to his offer. He had accepted before. He had failed before. Just as he failed now. His body was healed as he stepped free of the rack. The pain was gone, but not the hatred and fury that filled his soul. Ripping and tearing, torturing, using all the skills Alastair had taught him to give back the pain he had suffered. He shouted his triumph every time he beat down a soul, every time he convinced another soul to join the ranks of Hell.

He was good at his job. He'd always been good at his job, no matter what the job was. Hell was no different. Failures, he had many of those on Earth, but not in Hell. In Hell he was better at everything. He was praised by Alastair, made to feel proud, rewarded for his accomplishments. Given souls to rape, to find pleasure in and he took. He took and took and took, grim delight filling him every time he heard them sob or wail or beg him to stop. It only made him fuck them harder, more brutally, as he carved them into pieces, eviscerated them, burned them to ash, waiting for them to renew so he could do it all over again.

Dean's cock was heavy between his legs. He needed release, he wanted to hear the screams and begging. He needed to hear it. He forced his newest victim over, spread his legs and without warning thrust into him. His knife was in his hands as he fucked the man hard, shoving his face into the mattress and then drew his knife across his victim's back and heard the cry of shock. His hands were slick with blood and it felt so natural, so right, until he was abruptly thrown off his newest victim. How dare they! He came at the man in the dark, ready to bury the knife in the victim's belly, wanting to see the entrails fall free of their gut, when a fist slammed into his chin and he was once again thrown back, thrown back so hard he hit the wall. Wall?

He was dazed, his knife falling from his hand as he realized he wasn't in Hell anymore. As he realized his newest victim...had been Spike. He stared in horror at the shape of the man coming toward him.

Tears filled his eyes. Dear God, what had he done? A sob broke from him. He didn't care that he was naked, that his hands were coated in blood, as he struggled to his feet and tried to run for the door. This was why he hadn't fallen asleep in the same bed with anyone since his return, he had been so afraid of what he would do. And he had been right. He was a monster, worse than anything he had ever hunted.

Spike hit the lights for Dean's benefit and approached him again. "Are you awake now?" he asked, having realized Dean had been sleep walking. At first, the attack had angered him, made him think just maybe he'd been lured into Dean's bed for the purpose of being killed, but the attempt to rape him made no sense. The lack of response from Dean to his questions had tipped him off. Now, Dean was anything but unresponsive as he dry sobbed. 

Spike was in front of the door before Dean could ever reach it. His back touched the wood and smeared sticky blood across it. Reaching out, he grabbed Dean's arms and held him in place, searching his eyes for a moment, before pulling him close and enveloping his shaking body. "Shshsh, you're awake now. It's all right, yeah?" He glanced over Dean's shoulder at the bloody mess on Dean's bed and let out an unvampiric sigh.

Dean tried to shove Spike away but couldn't break the iron hold he had on him.

"It's not okay! It's not fucking okay!" Dean shouted. "I just raped you! I started carving up your back like a Christmas turkey! You should kill me. Just fucking kill me!"

Gritting his teeth as Dean struggled and pressed his palms against his chest, Spike didn't allow Dean to break free. "If you'd been awake, I might have. Stop it, bloody hell, stop fighting me," he demanded, shaking Dean hard until the hunter did what he asked. "Look at me. You think the people who get freed from that vampire nest are going to be able to go home and slip back into their lives as if nothing happened? No, some of them are going to act out. They're going to have nightmares. They might do worse, and they've only been at that place at most for a few months. I have a friend, he was sent to a hell dimension. Came back in a few months but he was there for decades. How long were you there?" He didn't pretend not to know that Dean had been there, not anymore.

Dean's teeth rattled as he was shaken, and still it was hard to stop fighting to get away. Spike's words didn't mean anything to him until Spike said 'hell dimension' and his blood iced immediately. His knees would have given out if Spike wasn't still holding him up. How did Spike know? "Forty years," he whispered, unable to deny the blatant question, as the tears tracked down his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he murmured. How did you make up for raping someone? 

Using his thumbs, Spike wiped Dean's tears and started to walk him backwards to the unused bed. Pushing him, he forced him to sit. "I know you are." He could tell there wasn't a flicker of self forgiveness in Dean's eyes. "We'll call it even, then. I'm sorry for what I did to you for the entertainment of our hosts. Don't look at me like that, it is the same. Either we both have an excuse, or neither of us do." 

"No, it's not the same. You did it to try to save those women from being slaughtered or all of us being raped. Now? Here? I did it because I wanted it and just took it. How can it matter it was a dream? It's what's inside me now." He laughed bitterly. "Or what isn't. Humanity. You're a fucking vampire and you're more human than I'll ever be again. I'm useless. A piece of trash that should have been discarded and left to rot. Why was it me? Why was I chosen to be rescued? I'm not worth it. I'm just not worth it."

"I'm a vampire who wreaked havoc, raped, pillaged and murdered for much more than forty years, and I wasn't asleep, yeah?" Spike sat down on the bed next to Dean. "Many won't forgive me for that, and I don't blame them. The important thing is, I forgave myself and let it go. I've got a new mission now, the one that's always been yours. Saving people. That is never useless.." Cupping the hunter's face, he forced Dean to look at him. "I was in that place for weeks. Who got me out? Who saved all of those people, Dean? Just think about them home in their warm beds or being taken care of in a hospital and out of that death-hole, and then tell me again that you weren't worth saving."

"You got us out. Your idiotic concern for me when she had me by the throat in the cell and then again when I was up on the stage. You came up with the plan and dragged me out of there. I was just...a useful prop." Dean took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on what he should be focusing on. Taking care of the man he'd just hurt. "C'mon, let's get your back cleaned up and bandaged. You're bleeding all over the place." Deflection from himself, he was always good at that. No matter what Spike said, no matter what the angels said, he was just a tool to be used. A broken, rusted-out tool that could sometimes still do the job it was meant to do. At least part of the job, anyhow.

"A very useful prop. If you hadn't used that deadman's blood trick of yours, I wouldn't be here, would I?" He let that sink in, then turned his back to Dean, pulling his sliced up tee shirt off. "If I haven't healed already, that's one negative to your sort of vampires. Just clean up the blood," he passed the tee-shirt to Dean. "And you owe me a new one." 

Dean saw that the wounds he'd given Spike were deep but were already closing up. The blood had slowed to a mere trickle. "You're almost healed," Dean acknowledged as he wiped up the blood. He was still leaving smears of it behind. "Bathroom," he said and got up, leading Spike in there and starting the shower. "In," he ordered as soon as the water warmed up. He didn't let Spike say 'no,' instead whipping down Spike's shorts and pushing him toward the shower. Dean had a fair amount of blood on him too so followed Spike inside. He didn't want to leave the dangerously contagious blood on himself any longer than necessary.

Soaping up a wash cloth, he began washing Spike's back. "So how did you know I'd been in Hell? And what made you change from being a blood sucking son of a bitch to a demon and vampire hunter out to help people?" 

Palms flat against the tile, Spike started to mouth off, "You know, most places walking into a shower with another guy means one thing..." Right, this wasn't the time. Or place. Or right man to proposition. "Heard your brother on the phone, that's how I know." He threw his head back, allowing the warm water to wash over him for a moment, then looking down again, enjoying Dean's hand on his back. "A little blonde that comes in a five feet two inch package and carries a sharp stick got me into helping. But I'm still a blood sucking son of a bitch," he smirked. 

Damn, he would have to remember how sharp Spike's hearing was, not that he should be surprised. In a way it was a relief to acknowledge it to someone who wasn't a friend, who didn't know why he ended up in hell, that he didn't have to justify it to. Spike seemed to take it in stride. Dean went to Hell and came back. End of story. Spike would probably want to know more and if he asked...Dean might tell him. 

How the hell could he feel a sort of kinship growing with Spike? Still, he supposed in a lot of ways they weren't really all that different. Other than the whole Spike was a vamp deal of course. That really ought to bother him, but it didn't. Maybe a part of him hoped Spike would turn on him and kill him, but from what he'd seen, that wasn't Spike. Spike was...good. Lenore and her nest went 'vegetarian' purely for survival, to try to avoid being hunted and to just lead quiet lives. That wasn't really good, that was necessity. With Spike it was different, Dean could just feel it.

"The Slayer? She's only five-two?" Dean asked, assuming that's who Spike was talking about. "I really don't understand why she let you live. I take it you had stopped killing people before she ever came into your life, or she believed there was something in you worthwhile." Dean didn't bother being embarrassed as he wiped down the blood that had soaked through Spike's shorts and trickled down his legs. He simply washed Spike's cheeks and went on down to wash the back of his legs.

Spike stiffened as Dean touched his arse, then relaxed. "Not quite. I was the big bad she was fighting," he said, a little pride creeping into his tone. "I wasn't as easy to get rid of as she thought I'd be. She wasn't either." He pushed away from the wall and turned. "Tried to kill her more than once. I was so busy hating her I never did realize I lov... liked her. Next thing I knew I'd switched sides."

Dean chuckled as he stood up, trying not to look at Spike's cock. He didn't want to embarrass the guy. Though with both of them naked in the shower, Spike was right about the assumptions that could be made but as far as he was concerned he was just cleaning up the vampire blood that could too easily turn someone. "Fell in love with your arch enemy. If that isn't a good story for Hollywood, don't know what is. Ought to write it up and sell it." 

Spike's shoulders were a little bloody from where Dean's blood-slick hands had tried to push him away and it had soaked through the material. As he washed off Spike's shoulders, he inadvertently made eye contact. Spike's eyes were blue. He had noticed, but not really noticed before. A nice shade of blue. In them he saw thinly veiled desire and suddenly the memory of how good Spike's kisses were popped into his head.

"Uh, here. You can get anything I missed," he said putting the soapy cloth in Spike's hand. He reached for another wash cloth to wash himself off.

Wringing the cloth out, Spike wondered if Dean felt the same jolt of electricity that had gone through Spike when their eyes met. Maybe not, maybe he'd seen and rejected what he saw in Spike's eyes. He draped the washcloth around the hook on the tile, and opened the door. "No one's ever cleaned me up before." It was a thank you of sorts before he stepped out, closing the glass door behind him. 

"My fault you ended up like that," Dean said. The shower suddenly felt empty and less warm without Spike there. He sighed to himself. He had tried to lose himself in his work, trying to deny how lonely he really was, especially since he got back from Hell. His and Sam's relationship had changed, there was a tension between them that hadn't been there before. Did Sam hold it against Dean that Dean sold his soul and went to Hell? Or was it that Sam had been unable to free him and felt guilty? Or did he feel guilty that he had taken up with Ruby in some sort of friendship...not a relationship. He wanted to deny that possibility vehemently, but when he first found Sam, there really was little doubt Ruby had been there as more than someone just dropping by for a visit.

There was tension between Spike and himself too, but it was different. He knew Spike wanted him, wanted to kiss him and sleep with him. He...wasn't sure what he wanted. Spike's presence eased something inside him. It was as if he could let his guard down. Spike knew he was a hunter, now knew he'd gone to Hell and back again, literally. Dean knew Spike was a hunter and a vampire. There just wasn't that big elephant in the room between them. He couldn't deny he liked Spike's company. At this point, too, Spike had had his dick up Dean's ass and vice versa. He remembered again the pleasure that he'd felt when Spike angled just right. He hadn't been lying when he told the vampire bitch he didn't know it could feel so good.

Did he want to sleep with Spike? Of course not! He didn't swing that way! Yet...was there really anything wrong with it? No, it didn't matter to him if two guys got off on each other. He had certainly been propositioned by guys enough times, though he'd always turned them down with as much decorum as he could. He also knew, though he wasn't by any means ready to even think about trying for more sleep. The thought of sleeping alone again the next time he laid down was even less than attractive. With what he'd done though, he shouldn't sleep beside anyone ever again. Hell, he and Spike should get different rooms, just to make sure he didn't hurt Spike again.

He finished up washing and rinsing and got out of the shower and toweled off. Towel wrapped around his waist, he stepped out into the room and got dressed.

"I don't really feel like trying for anymore sleep tonight. I'm going out to see if there's a twenty-four hour diner around here. You wanna come with?" He hesitated a moment then added, "since you lost all that blood because of me, are you hungry? It was my fault. If you wanna...take some from me, it's okay." He couldn't believe he was offering to let a vampire bite him, but better him than some innocent. And he was certainly anything but innocent.

Spike had stripped the sheets and wiped the door free of red stains, hoping Dean would forget what happened. As he looked away from the telly to the hunter, it was clear Dean didn't intend to allow himself that. "Paper cuts don't leave me hungry. Don't you think you should get some rest? I'll stay awake, you don't have to," he said, moving over on the bed.

Dean paled a little at the thought of laying down for more sleep. He had bad nightmares. He always had bad nightmares, but that one had been more impressive than normal. Then again, when was the last time he had gone to bed sober?


	4. Chapter 4

"Nah, I'm fine. Got plenty of sleep," he said. Glancing at the clock he saw he hadn't gotten more than an hour or two. "I'm hungry. Really. And I want some pie. I won't be gone more than an hour. Sure you don't wanna join me?" 

"I'll join you," Spike got out of bed and went to get some jeans out of the duffle. "It just means you're going to sleep the bleeding day away tomorrow, it's a human thing, the need for sleep." What he meant was that he wasn't going to hang about inside a room when the sun came out. There was too much for him to see, too much he'd missed over the decades.

'Yeah, well _my_ type of vamps usually sleep during the day, too," Dean announced. "You need to get some sunglasses and suntan lotion if you're going to go wandering around in the sun all day. I know the sun bothers them some, I just don't know how much and I don't wanna hear your ass moaning about a sunburn." He gave Spike a smirk. "So do you eat? I know my type of vamps drink alcohol, not sure about eating though. Be a crime if you can't enjoy a good burger or some pie." Dean picked up his keys and his wallet, then pulled out a credit card. "Here, you can have this one. Probably got a couple months before it gets denied. Haven't started using it yet. Twenty-five hundred dollar credit limit." 

Spike looked at it like it was about to explode in his face. "When did stealing cash go out of style?" he asked, zipping his jeans and then stuffing the card into his back pocket. He needed a wallet. "I can eat and drink. Have a bit of a sweet tooth but there isn't that much that I like." He quickly got his boots on and followed Dean out, pulling the door shut. 

* * *

It was about ten in the morning. Spike had quietly sneaked out of the room a few hours after the sun came up and it was clear that Dean needed his sleep. When they'd returned from the diner, Dean had reluctantly gotten into the bed with him after he'd promised up and down he would stay up and watch the telly. The thought of sleep walking again had the hunter panicked and Spike couldn't blame him. Waking up to surprise sex was one thing but the knife in his back was another altogether. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that had been about a self fulfilling prophesy. Dean believed he'd hurt him, or any other bed mate, and then he did. Once he let go of that fear, that fear would let go of him. Convincing the hunter of that would be tough.

As he walked through the park and watched as they set up for some sort of fair, he soon forgot about the hunter, and about everything that had happened over the past weeks. The sights and sounds mesmerized him, everything was different under the sun, things even smelled different. His eyes hurt a little from looking up too much, but there were balloon rides and he couldn't help wanting to watch as families and friends took off to the skies.

Years ago, he'd wanted this. Wanted to be able to walk around under the sun. He'd tried to steal a magical ring that would have given him that power but it had slipped through his fingers. Back then, he'd wanted the power so he could wreak havoc during the day just as he did at night. But now, now he was simply happy to be able to walk under the sun because it made him more normal. He'd made quite a few human friends over the last decade but there were always limitations on what he could do with them. Now, the sky was the limit. He just hoped this little 'gift' he'd received wouldn't blow up in his face or disappear.

A soccer ball came toward him. Grinning, he ran and kicked it back, careful not to use all of his strength. His grin widened when the high school aged kids gave him a thumbs up. "I'm English, yeah?" he said by way of explanation for his expertise, which none of them seemed to get by the blank looks on their face. 

*

Dean woke up slowly, even though the after-images of his nightmares hung strongly in his mind. He sighed and rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. Spike wasn't beside him and he didn't blame the guy. Who'd want to sleep with someone who raped you and carved up your back? The emptiness inside him seemed to grow. After he made sure Spike was okay with the whole new vampire thing _and_ was clearly able to handle animal blood without needing human supplements, he would leave Spike to his own affairs. That thought made him even more depressed. He didn't have many friends and as bizarre as it was, he felt a friendship had developed between himself and the vampire. Well, why the hell not? Sam was 'friends' with a demon. Dean had an angel watching over him though he wouldn't call Castiel a friend. Yeah, he'd saved him from Hell. He owed the guy something for that. And God wanted something from him. Why God couldn't just spell it out in a text message or an email or whatever the hell God used in the modern world was annoying. Why did God have to be all mumbo jumbo mysterious anyhow? It implied to Dean that whatever God had in mind for him, Dean wasn't going to like.

He pushed himself upright and grabbed a quick shower. Then, leaving a note for Spike, he went to get breakfast. En route to get breakfast Dean texted Sam, not really feeling like talking with him. "In S.C., all good here, call you tomorrow."

Dean got some coffee and pancakes and bacon, but found his appetite had waned. He pushed the breakfast away only half eaten. Life was so empty for him. The trees were alight with yellows and golds but it was all bland shadows of the beauty he used to see in them. Yeah, he didn't say out loud he liked looking at the changing leaves, that was too girly, but it didn't change the fact he appreciated them. At least he used to. He used to appreciate things a lot more. One would think going to Hell would make you savor everything that much more, but it didn't. Too much had happened to him on the inside. The only thing he really got pleasure from was killing things and even that was empty more often than not. Just something that needed doing.

He got a large coffee to go and was driving back to the motel when he saw the amusement park being set up and glimpsed the lanky form with bleach blond hair. Finding a place to park, he headed for the guy. "Looks like the balloon ride is ready. Why don't you go up in it?" Dean said as he came up behind Spike.

"Eh?" Spike turned, then smiled. "Not very often that someone sneaks up on me. Either you're a sneaky hunter or my mind's on too many things." Searching Dean's face, he was happy to see that the dark shadows under his eyes were disappearing. "I'll go up there when I sprout wings, but I'll watch you from down here if you want to give it a go." 

Dean laughed and shook his head. "I don't do things that go airborne. And I am a sneaky hunter but I'm betting it's because you're too busy watching everyone and everything."

Spike seemed relaxed and happy. Contentment was etched in his face. This was probably still like a dream for him. Dean couldn't imagine not seeing the sun for a hundred and thirty years. Since Hell, one thing he still did was people watching. Happy people. Kids on playgrounds, families laughing and smiling, it all made him feel a little less like he was an abomination. But he still felt like an outsider. He had never felt that way before. He used to watch people and just enjoy it, read the paper and look for potential jobs, laugh and joke with his brother, hit on women and get laid, and continue his hunt for the perfect cheeseburger. Now? He was just going through the motions. He feared that was all he would ever do again. Go through the motions of living. He knew when he died, he'd probably end back up in Hell. So Castiel pulled him out, that made him little more than an escaped convict, didn't it? Lilith held his contract. Until she was no more, technically his soul belonged to her.

"What happens to your soul when you become a vampire?" Dean asked as he settled down beside Spike on the bench. "Do you know where your soul is, what's happening to it? Or does the vampire blood just change you but you keep your soul? Makes your soul go all demony?"

"Are you asking because you're interested and it's something to talk about, or is this business?" Spike asked. He wasn't absolutely sure he was completely off Dean's 'to be watched and killed if dangerous' list.

Dean was silent for a couple heartbeats. "Personal curiousity. I was wondering if your soul ended up in Hell when you became a vampire or if it stayed inside you and changed, or whatever. And if it stays with you, what happens when a vampire is killed?" 

"Are vampires damned? I don't know," Spike shrugged. "And I know nothing of this other type of vampire I've possibly become. Hellmouth vampires--your 'Dracula' type--" He made a face thinking of that little shit that ruined it by getting famous, "are created after they die. If I'd given you my blood to drink, in a small quantity and without draining you first, nothing would have happened. If I did turn you, you'd wake from the dead. Your soul wouldn't be inside you. I suppose it would go wherever souls are supposed to go, up or down. There'd be a demon inside you, hungry for blood, for destruction, for fun... lust. Crosses, holy water... they'd work on you, so maybe you'd..." he thought better of the example. "Maybe we are damned to Christian hell, but if not there, you know there are many hell dimensions. Maybe there are heaven dimensions too, but I'm quite sure I wouldn't qualify."

Spike didn't care. He planned on living a long time. "Some of us have rejected the demon's desires, fought it, or changed our ways as a matter of self interest. I... well I went through a ritual that was more likely to end up destroying me than anything else, but I came out of it with a soul. A soul, not necessarily 'my' old soul. There's a curse that can re-ensoul a vampire too. As for what happens when a vampire is killed, I plan not to find that out for a bloody long time, yeah?"

Dean nodded. It was a sick and twisted hope anyhow but it didn't sound like he'd be any better off. Maybe once he had done what work it was he was supposed to, maybe God would let him into Heaven. The thought of going back to Hell...he was pretty much resigned to that fate but really hoped he was wrong. Maybe he had met his contract...? No, he sold his soul. Not just Lilith's right to collect it and take it to Hell. He clenched his jaw against that thought. 

"I sold my soul to bring my brother back from the dead," Dean finally said quietly.

There was a long silence. 

"That's how you ended up in Hell," Spike eventually said with a nod. "And being the stubborn sod you are, you found a way to climb out." Patting Dean's stiff back, he added, "Your brother is lucky to have you watch over him like that."

Giving a soft snort, Dean answered, "It was selfishness. I didn't know how to go on without him. All my life I've had one job. Take care of Sammy. I couldn't let him go and I couldn't let my dad down, not when I knew I could bring him back." He licked his lips. "I expected to live another ten years before they came for my soul. That's the normal deal but the bitch cross-roads demon only offered me one year. I...took the offer. A year later, the hellhounds came at midnight and ripped me to pieces. Next thing I knew, I was in Hell. I was there forty years." He shook his head. "But I didn't climb out. By then I was off the rack and returning thirty years of pain to whoever was on my rack that day." Ashamed, he lowered his voice and admitted, "Thoughts of getting out never really crossed my mind by then." 

Opening his shirt, Dean showed Spike the scar he knew Spike had already seen. "An angel pulled me out. Castiel. Cas. My invisible 'friend.' Told me God has work for me. Me. Working for a god I never believed in, or if I did, I figured He was a cold-hearted bastard who didn't give a shit about us." His laugh was bitter. "Of course, the dicks won't tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do. Just that I'm supposed to do something."

"Angel. Pull my other leg, why don't you?" Spike thought Dean was making that bit up, but the look on the hunter's face told Spike that he was bloody serious, and then there was the matter of the handprint-like scar. "So you're _chosen_. God works in mysterious ways and all that..." Spike hadn't thought about God or angels in... forever, since he'd been turned from that pious, sniveling half-man of a poet into a vampire who overcompensated. "I don't think you'll be going back to hell, Dean. You were brought out and you're a good man, anyone can see it. I wouldn't worry about your soul going back, if I were you." Deciding to lighten up the conversation, he added, "I would wonder what sort of work ethic my guardian angel has, letting me rot in that dungeon hell with me, I mean if I were you."

"Sold my soul. Lilith still owns it," Dean said with a shrug. "Thems just the facts. I don't see how I won't." He gave a nod and bit of a laugh. "Yeah, Cas is doing a piss poor job of being a guardian angel. Course I don't think that's his job. He's an angel who more or less just comes and gives me word of the end of the world's progress. Lilith is breaking the sixty-six seals and the angels apparently aren't doing so hot at keeping the seals intact. So smoke 'em if you got 'em." 

"End of the world? Another day, another apocalypse." Spike pulled a smoke out of the pack in his pocket and lit up and held it out to Dean, though he hadn't smelled any hint of tobacco on the man. He worked out what he knew about the seals and the book of Revelations, but there were so many apocalypses based on so many entities or belief systems, he didn't put any more stock in one over the other. They were all simply events that had to be averted.

Dean looked at the cigarette a minute then accepted it. He saw the hint of surprise on the vampire's face. "I smoke every once in a while. Today kinda seems like a good day to have one." After taking a draw on the cigarette he said, "Sounds like you've been through this whole possible apocalypse thing before. That's sort of comforting in a twisted way, this being my first. Nice to know others have been stopped."

Dean couldn't help it, he felt restless. Probably from being chained up those couple days. He stood up and stretched slowly and noticing Spike watching him maybe had him put a little more 'stretch' into it than he otherwise would have. "I need to move around. Sat on my ass too long in the house of horrors. Wanna walk or drive around or something? Or should I just meet you back at the motel when the sun goes down?" Dean wondered if he should risk leaving Spike alone. _You're a good man, anyone can see it..._ Spike's words echoed in his mind. If he were a good man, would he be waiting for someone he called friend to go all bloodlusty and be ready to hack his head off? It was his job though. _Screw the job,_ Dean decided. If Spike went south, he'd deal with it then. He didn't think it was going to happen though. Spike was the one who seemed like a good man. He took another puff from the cigarette and waited for Spike to answer.

Spike licked his lips and told himself to get his mind out of the gutter, at least where Dean was concerned. He finished lighting up and then smoothly rose to his feet. "Thought it might be fun seeing you play some of those games," he said, pointing with his chin. "But we could come back later, when there's more action. You have something special in mind?" He blew out a few rings of smoke, then looked at Dean. 

"If I play them, you play them," Dean said with a smirk. When Spike's question had thought of kissing Spike popping into his head, Dean was slightly embarrassed and shook that image away. "No. Just can't stand sitting here. You're the sun deprived one. Something you always wanted to see but couldn't? And I don't know if you were religious before you got vamped, but you can go into churches now, probably, if that means anything to you. Me, I don't do the church thing, but I'll take you if you want."

"Shall we test the wrath of God?" Spike gave Dean a mischievous look. "I'd like to know if I'm immune to holy water and crosses, but we don't have to go to church for that. Know what I was poisoned with? What sapped my strength? A shot of micro-crosses. I tried to bleed them out but each time the vampires at the mansion got the scent, it made them go sodding mad. You saw..."

"I've got crosses and holy water in the trunk," Dean said laughing at the look in Spike's eyes. "Your strength was sapped? And here I thought drac-vamps were just weaklings," he teased. "Nah, wasn't your blood, we were just hot together," Dean said before he realized it. He felt his cheeks redden a bit. Twice? Spike had managed to get him to fucking blush twice? "Uh, trunk. Car's this way," he said and quickly began walking for the Impala.

Spike almost forgot to follow and then had to catch up. He kept trying to catch Dean's eyes, but the hunter wasn't having it. Did he mean that they'd looked hot to others, or did he mean he thought they were hot? Spike knew Dean would never have chosen to be fucked by a man, knew it beyond a doubt. The hunter associated that with hell, that was clear, even his sleep walking involved rape. But would he have made light of it, would his color have risen like it had, if ...

Standing next to Dean as the hunter opened the trunk and rummaged through it, Spike thought he would go mad trying to figure out what Dean meant. Eventually, he reached out and closed his hand around Dean's wrist, stopping his search. Dropping his smoke, he ground his boot over it, then met Dean's questioning gaze. "Just to be clear, it was only luke-warm, what we did with an audience. If you ever want to do hot, you just say the word, yeah?"

Releasing Dean, Spike grabbed the duffel bag the man had been reaching for and brought it close. 

Dean stared at Spike, unsure what to say. Did he _want_ to have sex with Spike? He'd never gone that way, well, not until Hell. And that was just all kinds of fucked up. Spike was a good kisser, had certainly gotten Dean aroused with his skillful attentions, and he simply couldn't forget the feeling of Spike's cock rubbing over his prostate. It was the first time he had ever gotten any pleasure out of being fucked instead of doing the fucking. He debated and finally decided to tell Spike the truth. "I'll think about it," he said sincerely. Seeing the flash of hope in Spike's eyes, he added, "No promises one way or the other but I'll keep your offer in mind, okay?"

He opened the duffel Spike had pulled over to him and unzipped it. Pulling out a silver cross that was about eight by five inches, he thought about tossing it to Spike but figured Spike was so used to dodging a cross, it would just end up on the ground. Instead, he held it out. 

Reaching for it, Spike steeled himself for the pain and fro the sizzling of flesh and the smell of his burnt flesh. Instead, he was able to close his hand around the religious symbol with no painful ramifications. "Just imagine Golod's surprise when I shove one of these down his cheating throat." His gaze lifted, "He poisoned me because I won at cards. And he's fair game, not human," Spike added, before the hunter could warn him off.

Dean grinned. "Tell him it apparently gave you immunity to crosses, like a vaccination. That'll probably really piss him off." He pulled out the holy water and with a nod from Spike tipped a few drops from the flask into Spike's palm. Nothing.

That had Spike grinning. "Right, I'm ready for a bit of tumbling. Let me know when your bruises heal and let's see if you can give me a run for the money, yeah?" Spike had seen the bruises on Dean's body, but he expected the hunter hurt in less visible areas as well. Course he wasn't about to mention that. "A little extra training won't hurt either of us and there's always something new to learn." He did want to see a few more of the hunter's moves, they'd intrigued him and been very effective. 

"Dude, if I waited for my bruises to heal, I'd never get any work done. You just want to test out your new reflexes and see if you're as fast or faster than you were. We can train, but in a less public area. As much as I hate to suggest it, you ought to get a little taste of deadman's blood jabbed into you. You should know how it affects you and how long it'll keep you down. How much you get will impact how long you're weak, I know that. From my experience, a vamp shot with an arrow dipped in deadman's blood goes down in less than a minute. It keeps them weak for about an hour or so. When you come back, you come back to full strength immediately. At least that was the impression I got."

Spike wanted to test something out alright, but he noticed Dean let his 'tumble' comment slide. "Sounds a bit kinky, allowing myself to be paralyzed and at the mercy of a hunter. I'll have to get to know you a lot better before we try anything like that out. But training... tomorrow, we'll find a nice flat roof and _go at it._ " Smirking slightly, he waited for Dean's reaction.

"And I thought my mind was always in the gutter," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "You fall off a roof, you get up. I fall off a roof, I potentially break something. Now who's trying to get who at their mercy? I'm sure we can find a nice private area in a park to," and here, Dean smirked, "go at it. But I'm not sure you can handle me. I think I beat you on size."

"I'll have you know my mind's as pure as snow and you're the one trying to corrupt me. As for size..." he looked down at his hand, then at Dean's. "I wouldn't be too sure, but I'll tell you once I take you for a test drive." Pure innocence shined out of his eyes in direct contravention of his suggestive tone. 

"You already have," Dean pointed out, his eyebrows lifting. Dean had to admit all the sexual innuendo was beginning to affect him. He suddenly brightened. "I know exactly what we're going to do that you've probably never had a chance to do before. Get in the car."

It was on the tip of Spike's tongue to ask if Dean meant the back seat, but he said nothing, and walked around to the passenger side. "Surprise me." Pulling the door open, he slid inside and looked at Dean's profile the instant the bloke got into the car. "It's the first time I've seen you excited about something," he mused. "Let's see what puts a spring in Dean Winchester's step, shall we."

Dean grinned. "My brother would probably roll his eyes and tell me he'd pass and stay back at the motel on his damned computer. You, however, I think will like this. Kick back and relax. It's about an hour from here." Dean started the car and pulled out onto the road. "You said the scent of your blood made them all lusty and you've never run into these types of vamps before. If 'my' vamps knew Drac-vamp blood sent them into erotic-land, I'm surprised they haven't hunted Drac-vamps down." He was silent a moment. "I wonder if it was because of those silver micro-crosses in your blood. Maybe it created some sort of chemical reaction."

Making a face, Spike looked over at Dean. "You ask your research geeks and I'll ask mine. Let them look into it while we enjoy the day."   
Chuckling, Dean gave a nod. 

Dean drove at a fairly relaxed pace, enjoying the music and the drive. Still, the hour passed quickly and he was trying hard to keep his grin contained as he pulled into the parking lot of an indoor water park. Windows were everywhere so the sun shone in, but with the temperature in the sixties and it being November, it would have been far too cold for an outside water park. He looked at Spike, not sure how Spike was going to react to the idea. The guy might hate water. "Whaddaya think? They sell bathing suits inside. Guys in trunks, girls in bikinis, water slides and tubes and if you're lazy you can just plop your butt in an inner tube and drift around the park." After a moment he asked. "You game?"

Astounded wasn't too strong a word. "I'm always game," Spike answered, looking at the entrance, then chuckling. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd be able to show me something I haven't done. Right, let's go swimming," he got out of the car, and when Dean stood up, added, "I know I can't drown, but I also don't know how to swim, yeah? If you see me splashing about, it's not a trick." He supposed once he allowed water to fill his stomach and lungs, he'd sink all the way down and could walk out. Still, it didn't sound very pleasant.

Laughing at him, Dean shook his head. "Dude, this is a place for families on vacation and shit. The water's only three or four feet deep most places unless you go over to the diving area. I'm not sure about the wave pools. Never been in one. I'll teach you how to swim or we can get you some water wings like the little kiddies wear," he teased and laughed even harder at the glare he got.

He led Spike up to the park entrance and paid for their way in. They went to the swim suit shop first off. It had been a while since Dean had gone swimming and he was honestly looking forward to it. He really hadn't taken time off since he got back from Hell, what with the apocalypse and all. They teased each other offering up ridiculous swim trunks for the other to wear, until they both settled for solid dark trunks. Dean rented a big locker to leave their clothes in after they changed and then they walked into the park. 

Dean practically dragged Spike over to a medium height twisty turvy of a slide tube. The man up top showed them how to cross their arms and keep their legs together. Dean jumped in with a whoop, screaming with delight as he went through the tube and was thrown well away from the end of the tube and sank to the bottom. Yeah it didn't feel great on his bruises but he didn't give a shit. He got his feet under him and stood up, waiting for Spike. When Spike came out, he was ready and pulled Spike to the surface immediately until he got his feet under him. Dean's grin practically split his face in two. "That was awesome! Let's do it again!"

Wiping the water off his face, Spike frowned. "This is not three feet of water." He tried to maintain his stern look, but in the face of Dean's laughter, he couldn't. "Fun... yeah, it was a bit like jumping off a building, only wetter and slipperier." He'd never done this sort of thing, so he hadn't given a yell of joy or whatever it was that Dean and the other humans at the park were shouting about, and he hadn't been quite sure how to react. Now he realized, he could act the way he did whenever he was engaged in any daredevil act, and that yell they'd given was a yell of triumph. "Let's give it another go, and then I'm ready for the 'big one.'" He wasn't really that concerned, but he saw that his trepidation gave Dean no end of amusement, so he played it up, though he was careful not to overplay it because the hunter wasn't a git and would catch on.  
"I told you three _or_ four feet. Don't be a wuss. I was here to catch you so you wouldn't drown."

Looking over his shoulder, Spike made his way through the water, reached the edge and putting his palms flat on the concrete, pushed himself up onto the ground in a smooth motion. _Stairs are for slow humans_ , he mouthed, his expression clearly mocking.

Dean had always appreciated any sleek, muscular body, be it male or female, but males he obviously hadn't had any interest in other than approving of someone who kept in shape. He was forced to admit, watching Spike pull himself out, water droplets sliding down his back, gave him a jolt he usually only got when a sexy beauty walked by him. He made a face at Spike's taunt, swam over to where Spike stood, and pulled himself out. He gave Spike a light shove. "Least most of us can swim."

Heading back, they reached the ladder. Spike was in front of him this time and Dean had to watch Spike's ass as they climbed. _I don't do guys,_ he told himself firmly, but there was something about Spike. Dean chalked it up to them being forced to kiss, to Spike trying to comfort him when he'd had his nightmares, to not blaming him for the horrible thing he had done just the night before. And to that feeling of pleasure he'd gotten when Spike was fucking him. From their banter and Spike's looks, there was no doubt in Dean's mind Spike wanted another go 'round with him, one that wasn't forced. He had promised Spike he would think about it. What was the worst that could happen? That he didn't like it? Or that he did?

Dean forced his far too serious thoughts away. This was meant to be an afternoon of fun. Drooling over women, shouting with delight as they shot down water slides, teaching the poor Brit how to swim...

"Sure you don't want me going down first? No one to catch you to pull you to the surface if you're first," Dean said. Speaking to the attendant at the top, he 'whispered' loud enough for anyone within a few feet to hear. "He doesn't know how to swim."

Waving him away, Spike whispered just as 'quietly,' "You call it 'swimming' when there's only three or four feet of water? Just follow me down, I'll catch you. We've already talked about projecting your fears on others. S'alright, we'll get you over your fear of water, and heights, and ... women," he added, seeing the cute blonde standing behind Dean and watching him closely.   
With that, Spike sat down, laid back, and slid down the slide, giving a brave yell of triumph and trying not to think of being dumped into the water and having to find his legs. It hadn't been bad the last time. It was Dean's fault, he was making him worry more than he would have otherwise.

"He's joking," Dean said to the blonde, then turned to the tube and jumped in, muttering, "I'm gonna kill him," before letting out with a whoop. He surfaced after landing with a good splash and wiped the water off his face to see Spike standing there smirking at him.

"You're such a shit," he said and pounced, pushing Spike back, off his feet and underwater. The two wrestled, surfacing occasionally and Dean decided wrestling in the water with a vampire that didn't need to breath was not the most intelligent thing he'd ever done...but it was fun as hell. "Uncle!" Dean finally cried, sputtering and laughing after Spike nearly drowned him for the fourth time. Spike looked just too cool, calm and relaxed, but his eyes were dancing and his smile told Dean that Spike was having just as much fun.

"Come on, Spike, time to tackle Big Bertha," he said waving at the tallest slide in the park. He swam to the side and pulled himself up and out, his eyes following after a busty babe. When he turned back to face the direction they were walking, he notice Spike looked mildly put out and Dean elbowed him. "C'mon, she was hot. I'm hotter, of course, but she was hot."

"Keep comparing yourself to the girls and I'll have you in a wet tee shirt ... contest, tonight," Spike retorted, giving him a look. He was quite sure Dean made note of the bar close to their motel which had an advert of its contest pasted on the door. Course he'd be happy just having Dean in a wet tee, or any way he could have him. Some of it, he put down to having been together so much, and sharing a bed, but he also knew that if he'd seen the hunter walking down the street, anywhere, any place, he'd have been interested and done a bit of stalking. The thing he had to keep reminding himself of was that the reverse wasn't true. Even if Dean was flirting, it was in his nature to flirt and tease, and he enjoyed receiving compliments. That's what this was about. None of it was real to the hunter.  
When they reached the slide, Spike climbed up after Dean, his eyes laser focused on the waistband of Dean's trunks which were riding low on his hips, so low Spike caught a glimpse Dean's crack. As soon as he joined him on the platform, he reached out and pulled Dean's trunks up. "Wouldn't want you to lose your shorts on the way down, might be too distracting." So he did it in full view of everyone else and enjoyed the look on Dean's face, so what? "I'm still evil," he reminded the hunter in a whisper, before pushing Dean ahead. 

Hearing Dean's shouts on the way down, Spike gave a soundless laugh. The hunter was part child, and bloody hell, he was turning Spike into one as well. He tried to go head first, on his belly, but he was stopped and told it was against the rules. Nodding, he went into the tube on his back, then when he was only part way down, he opened his arms wide and slapping his palms against the sides of the tube, stopped his descent. Turning around, he did what he bloody well wanted, sliding the rest of the way down head first and on his belly, shouting for real as he got closer and closer to the water level and realized Dean might not be there to give him a hand.

Dean waited at the bottom, watching for Spike, and was surprised to see him come out head first. The look on his face as he went into the water was hysterical and Dean was laughing so hard that if he didn't know Spike didn't know how to swim and that this all made him a little nervous, he'd have let the man deal with it as he torpedoed into the water...sans trunks. There was a reason they didn't want you going head first. He grabbed Spike's arm, pulling him to the surface, but let him deal with getting his own feet under him as he quickly grabbed Spike's trunks.

"Brilliant, Mr. Evil," Dean told him as he held the trunks open underwater. "Hand's on my shoulders, jump up a little."

When Spike did as he was told Dean got Spike's trunks back on him. When Spike came back down as Dean pulled his trunks up they were chest to chest, eye to eye.

A variety of emotions washed over Spike as Dean got him decent and then stood close enough to kiss. "Also known as 'big bad,' emphasis on 'big,'" he managed to mutter, his gaze drawn to Dean's mouth. If they did nothing else, one day Spike wanted a real kiss from this man. Given freely, and only because he wanted it just as badly as Spike, and for no other reason. Blinking, he cocked his head to the side, gave a smile and backed away, because if he didn't, he was going to get both of them kicked out. "Did you say something about hot tubs and wave pools?"  
Dean felt a spark pass between them as they stood there a moment, looking into each other's eyes, and seeing Spike's gaze drop to his lips. He wondered if Spike was going to kiss him and he wondered what he'd do when their lips touched. He blinked when Spike pulled away from him, somehow a part of him feeling disappointed, while another part was relieved.

"No hot tubs," Dean said with a shake of his head, sounding mildly exasperated. "Wave pools, that outside ring of water we can flake out in inner tubes and just drift, more water rides and slides. And I still have to teach you how to swim. C'mon that slide over there has a loop in it! Let's try that. And try to keep your trunks on this time. I'm the show off."

With a smirk Dean was off, though he thought he heard something about him being a bloody lunatic. His smirk turned into a broader grin. Maybe he was.

* * *

Dean practically collapsed onto the bed. "I didn't know having so much fun could be so exhausting." He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his legs spread slightly apart. "And I think with a few more lessons you'll be swimming like a pro. You did pretty good body surfing, too. And that redhead was definitely into you," Dean said, denying he felt any possessiveness over Spike. "You should have taken her up on her offer. I could’a picked you up in the morning...or do you just do the guy thing?" 

Emulating Dean, Spike landed on his own bed. He'd gotten rid of the bloodied sheets and both beds were now made. He'd bet the envelope on Dean's bed was from management asking about the missing bedding. "I'm a vampire. It's daytime. I'm too exhausted to do anyone, red hair or otherwise." On his stomach, he turned his face toward Dean. "No, haven't done all that much of the 'guy' thing." Blood lust driven orgies notwithstanding, but it wasn't something he was about to bring up. "Maybe a few times a decade." His gaze sharpened. "You planning on giving me lessons?" After a pause, he added, "Swimming?"   
Dean turned to look at Spike then turned quickly back to look at the TV that wasn't on yet. He'd raped so many who were laying on their stomach, it brought back memories he shoved violently away. Fun. They'd had fun today. He focused on those recent memories. "If we end up someplace else we can go swimming, sure. Damned shame it's November."

Groaning, he pushed himself up. "Speaking of which, better get our trunks hung up to dry."

He walked over to the towels they'd also bought and wrapped the trunks in, carried them into the bathroom and hung them up. His stomach growled noisily. He hadn't eaten much today because he didn't want to get out of the pool and have to sit out any amount of time. Now he was too damned tired to get back in the car and go to the diner. "I'm going to order a pizza," he announced. "And get more ice for the cooler." He looked at Spike. "How often do you need to eat? Do we need to go out cow tipping tonight?"

Spike opened his heavy lidded eyes. "I've been feeding myself for a long, long time. You don't need to worry about that, yeah?" 

"And you're the first vampire I've spent more than three minutes with. I've invited you to have dinner with me...I'd kinda like to see you in action. Though I'll pass on you actually sharing any of your dinner with me," Dean said. He was interested in seeing Spike hunt or whatever he did, but he also needed to be one hundred percent certain Spike was not a danger to people.

There was a long silence. Not entirely comfortable because Spike knew exactly what Dean was doing. He resented it, resented it a lot. "This is the problem with making new friends. Have to prove yourself to them over and over again," he said, almost bitterly. "Alright _hunter,_ look in the closet. It's in the cooler on the ground." 

Dean almost winced. Subtlety was not among his best skills, and he truly was curious how a vampire hunted. Wasn't something he was generally going to ever get to see unless he was on the receiving end of it. Spike spent three weeks in that hellhole and never told them he was a vampire. Granted Spike didn't know what sort of vampires they were and how they might react, but the potential for kinship had been there and after three weeks, Spike had to have been starved. He never touched Dean in that way. He could have easily used Dean to quench his hunger, taken his car, and anything else he wanted. And he hadn't.

"I said I wanted to see you hunt. Stalking a cooler wasn't exactly what I had in mind. And let's be fair _vampire_ , tell me you don't know exactly where all my weapons are and where my machete is," he challenged. "Neither one of us is completely confident in the other. You don't know me, I don't know you. We've spent a couple very bizarre days together but we're still not sure. You said it yourself, you aren't sure what sort of vampire you've turned into and what it means...I've come back from Hell and I'm not sure what I am anymore either."

"Right, but I don't stalk cows. Or rats, or any other animal you can think of." He deliberately focused on Dean's throat and allowed his gaze to linger there. "Butchers. That's where I mostly get my supplies from. Sometimes volunteers or blood banks." If that wasn't enough information for Dean, he didn't know what would be. "As for what you are, I say you're what you want to be. You can let the things that happened in hell, that were done to you or that you did, haunt you, own you, or you can find a way to say 'that was then,' and 'this is you now', right here, today. Got another friend, the one who's also been to a hell dimension, he spent decades crying, punishing himself for all the wrongs he'd done, people he'd killed. He was quite a brooder, but it didn't bring the people he'd killed back. Angel got his life back by 'saving the helpless'... it's on his bleeding business card, these days," he said in a tone that made it clear he thought that was going a bit far. "But he got there, when he let it go."

Though Dean was no longer looking at him, Spike knew he was listening.  
Dean opened the larger cooler sitting by the door, making no move to go to the closet. He reached in and grabbed a beer. "Want one?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll have one." Rolling over, Spike sat up and pushed a pillow behind his head and against the headboard. When Dean brought him his beer, he took it. "Order your food, I'm tired of your stomach complaining, which, by the way, makes you one hundred percent human." 

"Only physically," Dean murmured under his breath as he went to the phone and found a pizza place listed on the local restaurant list. He called in his order, dug his money out and set it on the TV. Dean looked back at Spike, Spike's initial words coming into Dean's mind. "You called me friend." He gave a nod. "I don't have many friends in this line of work. Especially now. What with opening the devil's gate, going to Hell, my idiot brother going all psychic darkside...yeah, not been a good year and a half." He laughed bitterly. "Who the fuck am I kidding. Pretty much been a sucky life from the get go. Good old Winchester curse. Or maybe the Campbell curse."

Dean sank onto the bed, his earlier good mood beginning to wane. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm getting emo. I blame that all on my brother. He's the emo one and sometimes I think it's contagious."

"It's alright. I'm used to it. The Slayer used to sound just like that. Course she was a fifteen year old girl..." Spike's eyes twinkled with laughter, though every word Dean spoke gave Spike a clearer understanding of this man's life, of the burdens he carried on his shoulders. It was a wonder he hadn't given up, completely. 

"Did you just compare me to a fifteen year old girl?" Dean asked. Seeing the mirth in Spike's eyes he lobbed a pillow at the man. "I am not an emo fifteen year old girl." He eyed Spike. "Wait, a fifteen year old girl got you hot and bothered? You pervert you."

Spike caught the pillow and gave Dean a look. "Got me hot and bothered a few years later," he protested, but from the look Dean was giving him, that didn't get him out of hot water. "If I had to worry about age... bloody hell, I'd never get shagged. And that would be a pity, yeah?" He tossed the pillow back. 

Dean caught the pillow and laughed. "A shaggedless vampire. Tsk. Yeah, we couldn't have that. Probably make you all cranky. And I'm sure there's nothing worse than a cranky Spike. Okay, so I'll bite. A hundred and some years ago I don't think anyone would name their kid Spike. So 'fess up. How'd you get the name Spike?"

The laughter left Spike's eyes. Pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, he looked down for a long moment. "There are some things you probably don't 'really' want to know about me," he said finally, looking up. Of course that only made the damned hunter that much more curious, he could tell by how Dean didn't let him off the hook. "Spike as in railroad spike. I used them to torture and kill. You're sorry you asked," he said, giving an understanding nod. 

Dean had to admit he was surprised Spike told him a truth that was so ugly. Seemed like they were both doing a fair amount of unloading tales of guilt to each other, things they wouldn't normally tell anyone. "No, not sorry. I tortured souls in ways that would make that seem...gentle. I'm surprised you kept the name though it is--well kinda a cool name. Somehow it fits you, railroad spikes aside. What was your original name? How'd you end up a vampire? And ignoring you were the sort of vampire I'd toast in a minute in your younger days, now you're not, do you regret being a vampire now? Do you ever wish you were human?" 

It was strange for Dean. Sam was always the curious one. Dean just did his job. But ever since Lenore, and everything else that had happened to him, he found he wanted to understand the monsters he hunted better. Not understand them to kill them, but to make sure they were evil, to make sure he shouldn't stay his hand. Spike was, it looked like, a perfect example of something supernatural that didn't deserve to be killed because of what he was, no matter what he had been. Maybe Dean needed that to reinforce to himself that no matter what he had done, he could find redemption...and forgiveness.

Spike shook his head, "By the time I'm done answering, there won't be a thing left about me you'll like." Then it would be like starting all over, yet again. There was a knock and Dean went to get the pizza he'd ordered. Meanwhile Spike weighed his options. Much of his history was available to any hunter worth his salt, so Dean would find out anyway. But that wasn't the reason he decided to tell him. The reason was he'd seen something in Dean's haunted eyes, a need to hear someone else had been like him, done things that were unimaginably evil.  
When Dean returned with the pizza, Spike leaned his head back, closed his eyes and told his tale. He started with the ugliest truth of all. "William Pratt was a sorry, gutless, sad, specimen of a man, and a bloody awful poet at that." He told Dean about how his first act after being vamped by Drusilla had been to kill his own mother. He detailed his time as part of the fanged four and the trail of blood they'd left across Europe and Asia, then his time as a loner, in World War II, and when he'd come to America. "Really distinguished myself by killing two slayers. Third one, Buffy..." He smiled. "Stubborn, wouldn't go down. I did try," he clarified, turning his face toward Dean, wondering if the blank expression was Dean's way of hiding disgust. "My life changed. I changed. Being 'the big bad' wasn't good enough and I wasn't good enough. So I changed. And then I started to care. Might have gone a bit overboard," he said looking up at the ceiling at the memory of his sacrifice, which he wasn't about to detail. "And no, I don't regret being a vampire." He turned to Dean. "I regret the pain and suffering I caused, but this is me now. I like me a lot better than I ever liked William." 

Dean listened as he ate his pizza, trying to imagine everything Spike was telling him. He couldn't fathom seeing all the wars Spike had seen, all the lives Spike had taken. Spike had seemed to come to terms with his past. He didn't say he was doing what he was doing for any sort of redemption. He was doing what he was doing--hunting vamps and demons--because it was the right thing to do. What was done was done and couldn't be changed. Spike could regret it, but nowhere did he say he was trying to make amends, unlike his broody vampire friend that was saving the helpless.

Dean finished off most of the pizza by the time Spike finished talking. "You're wrong. I don't like what you were, no. But what you've become now? Yeah, I like who you are now. You sound like you've got your shit together." Dean set the pizza box over on the table and fished out another beer from the cooler and brought Spike a fresh one as he opened his own and began drinking it. "I'm not sure I ever liked who I was. Who I am. There was a time I thought I did, but I'm not so sure anymore. I loved my dad. I admired him. He was my hero. He killed evil and saved people. It was my job to look after Sammy. And to train and become a hunter. No matter how good I did, it never seemed to be good enough though. I think the only time my dad said he was proud of me was the night he sold his soul to save my life. When Sam died, it was still my job to protect him. So I followed in my dad's footsteps like I always had, selling my soul and bringing him back. Sometime during that last year I realized what a bastard my father had been. Sammy always came first. Sam and him, they fought like two pit bulls and I was always caught in the middle. It was me that wiped away Sam's tears that got him Christmas presents when Dad forgot. It was me that told him about monsters and Santa Claus. It was always me."

He gave as sniff. "I never even finished high school. Just got a GED so I could go hunting with Dad. I wasn't really cut out for school and in a dream life I got from a D'Jinn, I turned out pretty pathetic. But I think I was happy. Castiel, he took me back in time to see my parents when they first got together, when the yellow-eyed demon came into our lives. Mom was a hunter and she wanted out. She didn't want us raised to be hunters. It was her worst fear. And it happened anyhow."

Dean shook his head as he drank more of his beer. "I don't think Mom or Dad would be real proud of what I am now. What I've become. There's a...hole inside me. Big, gaping, empty. Sometimes I think it was where my humanity used to be that got burned out when I was in Hell. I'm broken, a pathetic shell of a man, though maybe I always was pathetic. Never was my own man, just a shadow of my Dad, and the man my dad made me into. It hurt so bad when Dad died, when I knew he was burning in Hell because of me. That hole was nothing compared to what it is now. How can you hurt so much when there's nothing inside to hurt?" He didn't have an answer and didn't expect Spike to have one either. He wished he could be like Spike, like what Spike said. Forget the past. Be what he was now. But he didn't like what he was now any more than he liked what he'd been.

"Sooo, now that we've both spilled our guts, wanna watch some TV or porn or something?" Dean asked.

"Telly," Spike nodded, shifting so that he was no longer sitting up, but laying on his side, with the pillow folded under his head. "But one thing. You don't sound like the failure you make yourself out to be. I'd be proud to call you son or brother. Before you shrug it off, think about someone else, anyone else with all the odds stacked against them that you had stacked against you. Think of them getting through it the way you did, see if you would call this other person a failure. We're harder on ourselves than others, yeah? Well, those of us who are 'Angel-broody types', anyway."

He'd said his piece, and was done. Even before Dean switched the telly on, Spike fell into a deep sleep and stopped breathing altogether.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was reluctant to nod off with Spike asleep, fearing what he might do without realizing it. Still, he had never attacked his brother. If they were in different beds, maybe it would be all right. Seeing that Spike had fallen asleep in a blink of an eye, Dean got up and wrapped the bedspread over him. He wasn't sure if vampires got cold, but it seemed like the thing to do. He studied Spike's face for a long time, the way his hair laid, his jawline, his high cheekbones, even his long eyelashes. Those soft lips, that no air whispered past, they'd touched Dean's skin and had pressed against his mouth. 

Dean ran his fingers over his own lips. He honestly couldn't deny he was confused. Never in his life had he come across a guy he wanted to lay. He had gotten plenty of blowjobs from women, but never from a guy. Would it be different, he wondered. He had jacked off plenty of times and had plenty of blow jobs and knew what felt the best. Any guy with any experience did. Did that mean a blow job from a guy could be better?

In Hell, he had had sex with more men than he could count, on both sides of the dick. Since he returned from Hell he'd laid that girl he saved from the shapeshifter who was playing classic monsters. Lost his 'renewed' virginity to her. He hadn't fallen asleep though. The sex had been damned good, and he'd been extra careful with her, making certain not to do anything that could remotely hurt her. He'd focused purely on giving her pleasure rather taking for himself. She had given him plenty but he had been tense, concerned that in the midst of his pleasure he would hurt her. 

Spike, he'd raped, and Spike thought nothing of it. He had sliced Spike's back open and Spike called it a paper cut. He realized he wouldn't be able to hurt Spike, not really, at least not physically. Emotionally? Dean wasn't at all sure if Spike was just interested in a good lay or interested in something more. Maybe...maybe, if Spike was cool with the idea, maybe Dean having sex with him would be an okay thing. He could find out if he'd hurt his sex partner, if he would want to. If he could have normal sex, or if he could have sex, fall asleep next to someone, and not hurt them during the night. He would be using Spike, plain and simple and if Spike wanted more, he wouldn't do that to the man. So long as Spike understood it was therapy after a fashion and was willing to help Dean through his fears, so long as he didn't expect anything long term, maybe it would be okay to use Spike like that. It would be consensual though. Dean would lay it all out, make sure Spike got what Dean needed. And hell, it would be a new experience. While alive, he'd tried damned near every other sort of sex possible, in damned near every position that was remotely feasible.

Yeah. Okay. He'd try. He'd ask. Spike could always say 'no.' 

After turning on the porn channel, he watched the sex, switching to a different porn channel when the movie started to lean toward bondage. He had to jack himself off once when a particularly busty Asian babe was onscreen and doing it with blonde bombshell of a woman. Damn that was hot and Dean couldn't help himself. He just swallowed back his groans so he wouldn't disturb Spike and hoped like hell Spike didn't wake. It wasn't long after that, between the long day of fun, the heavy thoughts, and the jerking off, that it all caught up with him. His eyes drifted closed, the TV still on.

*

Just as suddenly as he'd shut down and gone into the deep sleep of a vampire, Spike woke, eyes snapping open and immediately seeking out the clock. Even before he established it was early evening, his senses locked onto several provocative facts. Dean's heart beats and deep breaths punctuated by the moans coming from the telly, Dean's scent, only muskier than usual ... edged with arousal and the scent of sex. Sitting up, he saw the tissue in the wastepaper basket between the nightstand and Dean's bed.   
His entire body tensed, his stomach clenching and heat flooding straight to his cock with such intensity that a soft oath escaped him. His gaze swept over Dean who was asleep and half-sitting, with his chest bare and the sheets pooled around his hips. The thin material pulled to one side and clearly revealed the outline of the hunter's cock resting against his inner thigh.

In his evil days, or if Dean weren't already weighed down with so many issues, Spike would have taken what he couldn't get out of his mind at the moment. Running a shaky hand over his face, he allowed himself to imagine it. Creeping over to Dean's bed. Laying on top of him, touching him, massaging his cock right through the sheets until the hunter had a raging hard on that wouldn't be denied. He'd kiss him, and rock against him and tell him he was still asleep, or that it didn't count with the sheets between them, whatever it took, but he'd have the tumble he needed so badly. 

Why was he torturing himself? Biting his lip, he swung his legs off the bed, wincing slightly as his jeans press down harder over his bulging arousal.

*

Alastair was leaning over him, leering, running his hands over him. "Such a fine specimen you are. You're going to make such a very good demon. Maybe we'll even get you a body that looks like you. Shouldn't be too hard. So do you want to put people on the rack, or do you want to fuck what ever comes along?" he asked, slowly stroking Dean's cock, making it obvious what he wanted Dean to do.

"Fuck" Dean said, afraid to counter what Alastair wanted him to do. He'd rather rip people apart, but he could always do that while he was fucking them. In Hell you could have a hard on for as long as you wanted, and seeing the blood and hearing the damned souls scream always gave Dean a hard on. "Fuck 'em on the rack?" Dean asked hesitantly, wanting to feel that slick blood all over him, blood that wasn't his. 

Alastair waved him toward the racks and Dean was off with a grim grin. He walked along until he found a lovely woman with waist length blond hair. He got behind her and shoved his hard dick up her ass as he wrapped her hair in his hands, yanking her head to the side so he could ravage her mouth the way he was ravaging her body. At one point the blade the torturer was using on her went clear through the woman and into Dean's chest. It only made him fuck the woman harder as she screamed into his mouth. The torturer handed Dean a glowing hot blade and Dean began working on her back while the torturer worked on her front. He sated himself all day long with those on the rack, trying to get more creative as he went, trying to get that just right scream...

Dean awoke with a start and a hard on. The TV was still playing porn and he grabbed the remote and shut it off, then lobbed the remote at the screen. The remote bounced harmlessly off the TV, but the back cover flew off and the batteries spilled across the floor. He realized suddenly that Spike was awake and sitting on the bed across from him. He looked at Spike then looked away. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Spike looked back from the remote on the ground and shook his head. "No. And what did that remote do to you?" he asked tightly, trying not to take in Dean's scent. 

Dean stared at the blank screen of the TV. "Pissed me off," he said. His jaw clenched as he shifted uncomfortably. "I wanna ask you something. I know you're interested in jumping my bones. Is it just...you know, like me seeing a good looking chick and I wanna get in her pants, or is it more than that for you?"

"It's a rather moot question, isn't it?" Spike gave a self deprecating laugh. "No one ever died of wanting to get into someone's pants, don't go worrying your head about it." He stood up and crossed the room, wondering if Dean had somehow picked up on his desires. Pushing aside Dean's shirt on the table, he muttered, "Where the bloody hell are my cigarettes?" 

Dean slowly shook his head. "No, it's not a moot question. I know I'm fucked in the head. You know I'm fucked in the head. I haven't done anything sexual with anyone since I got back except for one girl. I was so fucking paranoid I was going to lose myself, that I was going to hurt her, I was treating her with kid gloves. Nothing wrong with that, but I was afraid to fall asleep with her, or afraid in the middle of my release I'd do something terrible to her. You...you I can't really hurt, not physically. Yeah, I can hurt you, but you get it, you understand and I don't know, you can protect yourself from me. You're strong enough to stop me if I start to go over the edge. But you gotta understand, if we had sex, I'm using you to get through my issues. Nothing else. Just using you for my own selfish reasons. If you feel anything for me other than," Dean waved his hand, "friendship, then we can't...I won't hurt anyone else." Dean leveled his gaze on Spike. "So answer my question. You just want a good lay, or are your emotions tangled up in this?"

I'm using you to get through my issues. Nothing else. Spike whirled around, his gaze locking with Dean's as he remembered the first woman he'd loved telling him he was beneath her and then the Slayer cutting him with an offer that was the same as Dean's. A muscle throbbed in his jaw. "Use me? Charming offer, that. I think I'll pass, but thank you?" He turned back, and moved some of the other clothing around, then dropped down when he saw the pack had fallen onto the ground, next to the chest. "At least you're honest, I'll give you that." 

Dean gave half a shrug. "I won't fuck with your head and honestly? That's the answer I figured I'd get. Probably the same one I'd give if you said that to me. Maybe I didn't say it the best, but no matter how I said it, it all boils down to the same thing, doesn't it?" He reached out and touched Spike's shoulder. "Doesn't change that I appreciate everything you've done for me. I'm not into the emo crap, but I gotta face that I needed someone to tell, to talk to, and I appreciate you listening and not judging. Whenever we part ways, know that I've got your back if you ever need it." He gave a soft laugh. "Who would have ever figured I'd end up friends with a vamp?"

Spike took a moment then got up and turned. He wasn't very pleased to find Dean in his space and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell the hunter to have a heart and go take a bloody shower. Instead, he stepped back and was careful not to take in any more of his scent, if he could help it. "I don't have the moral high ground, so I can't judge. Hunter and vampire, friends, strange," he nodded. "Maybe almost as strange as Slayer and vampire. "  
Tapping the pack, he pulled out a smoke. "I'll meet you outside, if you want to go see what's happening at that carnival in the park." Without waiting for an answer, Spike headed for the door and walked through it, pulling it shut behind him.

Leaning against the wall, he looked down and lit his cigarette. The hunter might not know it, but he'd hit a nerve. A raw one. Spike was all for one night stands and 'no strings.' One thing he wasn't prepared to do again was to be used. There was a time when Buffy had done just that. Not that he'd been blameless, but he wasn't going there again, and the parallels here, now, with Dean, were too close for his comfort.

"Gimme ten and I'll join you," Dean called after the vampire, knowing that with Spike's sharp hearing, there was no doubt he'd heard him. Dean still had his hard on from his nightmare. He turned on the shower and kept it cold. He would not jack off, not get any pleasure from a hard on that came out of giving pain to others, even it was just a dream. He slammed his fist into the wall. He wanted the dreams to stop. He wanted the things he felt inside him to go away. He wanted Sam and himself to be brothers again, and for Sam to trust him again. And now he wished he hadn't said a damned thing to Spike. It was obvious he'd hurt Spike with his request and he didn't know how to make amends. He didn't know how to make amends for anything anymore.

His teeth practically chattering as he got his arousal to wilt to nothing, Dean reset the two knuckles he'd dislocated when he punched the wall. He was sweaty from his nightmare and made the shower a little warmer as he quickly washed off. It was girlie, but he didn't really want to go out into the chill night with wet hair so used the blow dryer to get his hair dry and quickly dressed. After picking up the parts of the remote and setting them by the TV, he grabbed his keys and wallet. Pausing at the door, he looked around the room hoping Spike would stay a few more days. He wasn't really ready to be alone or to go back to Sam, which he might as well be alone when he was with his brother. It felt that way, anyhow. God, he hoped the carnival served beer.

A few minute later, Dean was in the car and leaned over, unlocking Spike's door.

Once he got inside the car, Spike relaxed slightly. He looked out the window and could see the lights from the various rides. "We could have walked," he pointed out. "But you need some place to put all the dolls you plan to win." The careless tone was a little forced, but he'd get there. The hunter owed him nothing and had done nothing wrong, other than to disappoint him. He did wish the offer had never been made, then he could still enjoy the light flirting they sometimes engaged in. 

Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "Last time I walked back to a motel, I ended up in chains," Dean said giving Spike a look. "Not that I regret the final outcome of that. I got a friend who actually knows how to have fun, can blow off an apocalypse, and you got the ability to walk in the sun and get immunity to holy symbols and crap. Rough trade, but worth it. Course I'm a selfish prick."

Dean found a place to park and both men headed into the carnival. Dean pulled Spike to a stop in front of a game with balloons and darts. "You Brits are good at darts, right? Show me what you got."

When they walked up to the stand, Spike rolled his eyes. "This? This isn't a test of skills, it would take skill to miss the balloons." Naturally several people were throwing darts and a few of them missed and glared at him. "Eyes closed," Spike said, taking up a guy's challenge and holding his hand out. It didn't look as if the man would give him the dart so he said, "If I miss, I'll get you two rounds." Between that, and the man's son now pleading, the man turned over his second dart.

Spike looked at Dean, then back at the board covered by balloons. Closing his eyes, he threw the dart and opened them in time to see and hear a balloon burst. "Right, I should be on America's Got Talent," he said, smirking and nudging Dean with his shoulder to move it along.

Dean smirked back. "Okay smart ass, so you choose the next game or ride or whatever. And no, I am not going up in the hot air balloon unless you go with me." 

"I think I've had enough of dare deviling for one day, big Bertha was big." They walked through a throng of people and made their way to the next aisle of games. "That one there has your name all over it," Spike said, pointing at the water guns. "Let's see if that child there beats your arse." A very happy child with lots of stuffed animals at his feet was sitting there and inviting others to join the game. The more players there were, the bigger the prizes.

Dean sat down and handed over the money. "All right, let's have it."

Most of the seats were filled when the man behind the counter gave the go. Dean was bulls eye dead on but it was a race between him and the kid. The munchkin could shoot. Dean was going to let the kid have the win when he realized the little girl next to him was trying her best but just couldn't quite keep the water on the target. His 'mountain climber' reached the top first. He pumped his fist in the air. "Yeah!" 

The man behind the counter asked him what he wanted. Dean looked over the prizes, then leaned close to the young girl beside him. "I dunno what to choose. What would you choose if you were me?"

The girl looked at him shyly and pointed to a stuffed unicorn. "That's the prettiest," she said softly.

"Ah. You know, you're right." He nodded to the guy to give him the unicorn. He took it and winked at Spike. "You know, I'm on the road a lot. I don't know that I can give this unicorn a good home. You think you could take care of it for me?"

The girl's eyes grew big and she nodded. "Yes, sir. I'd take real good care of it for you!"

"I bet you will." He handed the unicorn over to the girl and she skipped happily away, the stuffed animal clutched tightly against her chest. Dean grinned at Spike.

He looked around and saw "The Octopus" ride. He'd always liked that as a kid. It had four different arms, each with compartments that spun. The ride spun and the arms went up and down too. He remembered he'd tossed up a chili dog once after having ridden it about ten times in a row. "That!" Dean declared. "Or is that too daredevil for your weak disposition?"

Stung by the question, Spike started to march toward the ride. "You've swam, gone sliding, and had a large pizza all to yourself. Is your human constitution going to make impossible for you not to throw-up after the ride? I'm not prepared to clean you up or ride with a certain putrid smell all the way back to the motel," he warned. 

"Hah! My 'human' constitution will be just fine." They paid for their tickets and got in line. They were up on the very next ride. Dean didn't figure Spike had ridden one of these before and if you pressed your foot against the bottom edge, it would twirl your compartment faster.

The ride began slowly enough, then began to pick up speed, the compartment spinning lazily this way then that. Pressing his foot hard on the floor, the compartment began to spin quickly and threw Spike right up against Dean. Laughing, Dean stopped pushing his foot on the floor and then did it again. "What's the matter Spike. Can't keep your seat?"

"What the bloody hell is this? This is supposed to be fun?" he demanded, pulling himself away and trying to find a rhythm to the spinning. Just when he would start to enjoy it, it would spin out of control again and he'd go crashing into Dean, "Shouldn't you be yelling or something?" He gripped the frame of the compartment, giving Dean a look of disbelief after seeing the sheer joy on his face. 

Dean was laughing and while he wanted to keep the secret, he wanted Spike to share in the fun. He reached over and pressed down on Spike's far knee so Spike's foot pressed into the floor. They began to spin so Dean was thrown into Spike. "Physics at work. Sam tried to explain it to me once. All I know is it's fun!"

Dean pressed his foot down and reversed the spin of the compartment.

It was a good thing Spike figured out why he was being touched the way Dean was touching him or there might have been some trouble. Now that he realized what Dean was showing him, his gaze narrowed and he stepped down hard, cracking a smile when Dean started to slide over. 

Somehow, by the time the ride came to an end, they were both laughing. Still, the instant they got off, Spike reminded Dean not to get sick on him, and then dramatically held onto his shoulders from behind, forcing him to weave about, while at the same time declaring, "S'alright. You'll be fine, just breathe. Hold your food in, breathe. I've got you."

Naturally, many pairs of eyes were on Dean and there was laughter both by people who realized Dean was fine and others who did not.

Dean made gagging sounds, turned, and acted like he was going to throw up on Spike. He laughed at the momentary flash of concern on Spike's face. "Dude, it would so take more than once to make me throw up," he said given Spike a playful push. Dean paused and looked longingly at the air filled tent that kids were bouncing around inside of. That had to have been one of his favorite things to do as a kid. He only got to go in one a couple times and of course, he was far too big and heavy for one now. "Those were fun," Dean said with a sigh.

"No... abso-fucking-lutely no." There was always a chance Dean would try to get him to hop around like a bunny and Spike wanted to nip that in the bud.

Dean looked around at all the different food vendors. Hot dogs, sno-cones, cotton candy, funnel cakes...

"Spike, you said you had a bit of a sweet tooth. You ever had a funnel cake? I'll warn you. They're evil."

"I don't like fennel," he answered, making a face. "Biscuits. I like biscuits." He sniffed the air and could clearly smell chocolate chips. "I won't tell you what I'd dip them in," he said, a malicious glint in his eyes as he looked at Dean.

"Not fennel, funnel." Dean made a face. "And I know perfectly well what you'd dip them in. And that is just gross." Dean went over and got some funnel cake. "C'mon, try," he said, returning to Spike's side and holding the plate of rich fried pastry coated in powdered sugar out for Spike. 

"It looks like brains, or really thin intestines, with fairy dust. It's a girl's dessert, isn't it?" Spike asked, gingerly taking a bit, shaking it free and tilting his head back as he lowered the stringy pastry into his mouth a little at a time. He chewed, pleasantly surprised by the uncomplicated flavor. "You're right, it's evil. Let me take the plate off your hands," he offered as if it was the most magnanimous offer of all time.

Spike's description of brains or intestines had Dean's stomach a little less sure he wanted the funnel cake until Spike tried to take it away from him. "Oh no you don't. You can have half," Dean said firmly. "So long as you stop describing it in terms of body parts." Pulling off a piece, he stuffed it into his mouth, glaring at Spike. Powdered sugar smudged his lips and one side of his cheek. "And it's not a girl's dessert," he said with his mouth full.

Dragging his gaze away, but not fast enough to have missed the powder on those wickedly full lips, or to have felt the crazy desire to lean in and lick it off himself, Spike took another piece. "Worms then, worms that crawled through flour, yeah?" He ate a bit more, taking the time to savor the flavors. He waited until he heard Dean swallow before thinking it was safe to look up. "Sodding..." He waved in the direction of Dean's face. "Wipe your mouth, you've got sugar..."

"Worms I can do," Dean said, pulling off another piece as he licked his lips, licking away the powdered sugar. He stuffed the next piece in his mouth, the sugar powdering his lips worse than before. He chuckled as Spike now had some powdered sugar on his face. He led Spike over to a bench and set the plate down between them. "You ever ride amusement rides before? Or done a carnival--when you weren't hunting? Just doing it for fun?" 

"No." Stretching his legs out, Spike leaned back and turned toward Dean. Since the hunter was intent on torturing him with the way he ate and licked and wiped his thumb across his mouth, Spike was going to just have to suck it up. Maybe he just needed to find someone to shag, though the idea didn't hold much appeal at the moment. "Lots of firsts today. Sunrise. Swimming. Acting like a bloody idiot going down slides and," he pointed with his chin towards the ride they'd just taken. "And you and your poofter cake," he smirked. 

Dean copied Spike, leaning back as he continued to work on the funnel cake. "I can't tell you the last time I took a few days off from hunting. If I've ended up someplace like this," he waved his hand around at the carnival, "I was working. Spring Break. Working. When Sam was a kid, I'd snag money one way or another and try to get him to places like this. Give him a chance to be a kid. Usually couldn't snag enough cash for both of us, but a few times I could. Dad took us a couple times too. When I got older, money was hard enough to come by, I wouldn't spend money on frivolous things like this. Needed it for ammo and motels and food. And alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol." He passed a glare at Spike. "You seem to be doing a pretty good job on your half of the 'poofter' cake."

Dean saw a couple guys walk past that definitely gave them both a once over, and the dark-haired man's gaze lingered on Spike, drinking Spike in. Dean felt a flare of jealousy. The two men paused about ten of fifteen feet away and talked between themselves. The dark-haired guy's companion seemed to be encouraging him. Finally the guy came back and slowly approached them. "Are you two...together?" he asked, his gaze definitely focusing on Spike.

"Yes," Dean said quickly, practically before he realized it. He glanced at Spike, suddenly feeling a little guilty. If Spike wanted to hook up with someone, it wasn't fair of Dean to stop him.

Spike would have told the pair to fuck off, but Dean's 'yes' took him by surprise. After the things Dean had said, could he even believe there was a spark of jealousy? He was probably just trying to fool himself, and yet, he couldn't help but want to know for sure. He introduced himself and almost as a second thought, introduced Dean while staring right back at the dark-haired man. "Are you alone?" His gaze flicked to the other man standing in the distance, then back. 

"I'm Marshall," the guy said. He glanced back at his friend. "Yeah, I'm single. Kenny, he's straight. Wife, two kids. I broke up with my boyfriend about two months ago. Kinda a small town, not a lot of gays around. Have to go into the city to find any action. I just thought if maybe you weren't together or if one of you," and his gaze lingered again on Spike, "might swing my way, we could maybe go out for drinks or something, after the carnival. We still can, the four of us, if you want. Couple people around here can get a little vocal about not liking gays, but they're all bark." Marshall grinned. "My dad's the sheriff so no one really messes with me."

Dean had to grind his teeth to keep from saying anything aside from a polite nod. He wasn't Spike's keeper. Although he struggled to get the words out, and they were definitely a little more petulant than he would have liked, he gave a reluctant nod to Spike. "Go ahead if you want," he ground out. "I can head back to the motel," he said with a shrug, but he wouldn't look at Spike.

"Dad's the sheriff, that's convenient. Still, not even an underground club?" Spike searched Marshall's face, then slapped his hand on top of Dean's thigh. "Tempting, but I'd better not." He made sure to infuse his tone so it was clear to Marshall that a 'yes' would buy him a world of trouble from Dean. "Might run into you again though, this being a small town, yeah?"  
Marshall gave nod. "Yeah, I understand. I hang at Rookies a lot of nights after I get off work. If you two want to come by. They have good burgers and BLTs. Special on beers on Tuesday nights, too. I, uh, I love your accent, by the way." He gave them both a smile and caught back up with his friend who gave him a one armed hug and then they headed on down the fairway.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. "That wasn't fair. You should have gone with him if you wanted."

"Oh, I would have." He banged his knee into Dean's. "If I'd wanted." Lifting his hand off Dean's thigh, he took a bit more of the funnel cake. "He liked my accent."

Dean felt a little anger at Spike saying he would have but he really didn't understand where the anger was coming from. He wasn't sure if he just didn't want to share Spike with anyone right now because...because he was having too much fun having someone to hang with, someone who thought like him sort of, had the same sort of twisted sense of humor, and someone he could show things to and see the almost innocent wonder, the sort his brother used to have. He didn't have to look after Spike, didn't have to worry about him. 

"It's a poofter's accent," Dean accused teasingly but he couldn't deny he kinda liked it too. He was not going to give Spike that ego stroking though. Spike had enough of an ego. 

"It's a poofter magnet," Spike corrected, giving Dean a long look. "Now if you're done resting, let's go find ourselves some drinks." Pulling up off the bench, he looked across the park. "I think there's a place right there ... unless you want to go to the place they're having that wet tee shirt contest."  
"There's good," Dean said, not really wanting to go to see a wet tee contest. He didn't want any distractions and after having just put the kibosh on Spike's possible chance for fun, that didn't seem right. "Unless you want to go."

"Only if you're entering," Spike grinned, then started to stroll across the park. He really shouldn't make so much of the jealousy Dean had exhibited. It could mean anything. It probably meant everything but that he wanted something from Spike, something not meant as 'therapy.' He had to get his mind off the things Dean had said or he would obsess over them and ruin the rest of the evening. Forcing the thoughts away, he chose a path through the arts and crafts section and kept Dean entertained with his over the top talk about how various items reminded him of things from the 1800s, things he'd hoped never to see again, such as crocheted doilies, which he then had to show Dean who had no idea what he was talking about. 

By the time they reached the small bar, he'd been subjected to more 'old man' jokes than he could keep count of, though he was used to them. They found a booth near the bar, and ordered hard liquor. Beer, they had plenty of in the room. 

* 

Dean was pleasantly inebriated by the time they left the carnival, playing a few more silly games on the fairway as they walked back to the car. Driving the short distance back to the motel, he couldn't help but wonder if this was what it was like to have a normal life. Then he reminded himself that a 'normal life' meant working nine to five at some boring job day-in day-out with only the rare chance to lounge around. He wasn't sure which was worse. The thought of a nine to five job or the impending apocalypse, and a soft laugh erupted from him.

Spike gave him an odd look.

"Nothing," Dean said with a dismissing wave. "It's probably only funny because I'm drunk." 

As soon as they got inside the room, Dean pulled off his layers of shirts, casting them carelessly aside, then he stood at the end of the bed, spread his arms out, and fell backwards. He really should brush his teeth but then just didn't care. After trying to toe his boots off he gave up. He would have to sit up and untie the laces and that took more effort than wanted to expend. "I dunno how we're going to top today," he said, glancing over at Spike.

Looking down at Dean spread out on the bed, Spike had a number of ideas on how he'd like to top. "Teasing a vampire when you're smashed is not a good idea," he said, feeling a little buzzed himself, though he wasn't certain it was the alcohol. Could be high spirits, after all that being cooped up, and this hunter's company.   
He'd taken his own shirt off and undone his jeans when it became clear Dean was going to need help. Bending, he untied and pulled off first one, then the other boot, letting them fall heavily. Dropping onto his knees between Dean's legs hanging off the bed, Spike crawled forward on his elbows on either side of Dean's body and started to undo his belt buckle. The bloody thing didn't want to come undone. So much for his good intentions, to get Dean undressed and in bed before... yeah, it wasn't happening. His mind had already gone to the gutter, what with his sudden awareness of the heat emanating from Dean's body and wanting, more than anything, to kiss the indentation on his abs right above the uncooperative belt buckle.   
Dean didn't complain when Spike pulled off his boots. He wasn't that drunk, well no drunker than he'd get most nights. He just wasn't motivated enough to care about taking his boots off. His eyebrows did rise when Spike was fighting to get his belt undone. He lifted his head and seeing Spike between his legs like that, those sweet lips right near his cock, had a whole bunch of new ideas popping into his head and heat spiraling to his groin. He reached down and gave his belt that extra tug to get the latch released. Once the belt was unhooked he let his hand fall back to being outstretched onto the mattress. He left it up to Spike to make the next move though he knew the fact he was beginning to sprout some wood with Spike right there between his legs ought to give Spike an idea of what moves Dean was sort of hoping for. 

Spike's gaze flew to Dean's. He hadn't thought Dean was really capable of helping himself, and since he was, he'd expected censure in his eyes. Seeing none, he bit his lip and popped the top button of Dean's jeans. Still, Dean was motionless, just watching him. "Do you want to..." he made an unzipping gesture, the fingers of his other hand skimming over Dean's flesh right above the waist band of his jeans where he'd need to hold the material, if he was doing the unzipping for Dean.

Dean couldn't help being amused. It was like that time when he was twenty and had gone out with Melinda Mulrooney. M&M they called her which was really the only reason he remembered her name. They'd both gotten pretty smashed at a party. The waitress had a little apartment on the second floor, and Dean had to carry her up the stairs. She was still conscious, just pretty damned drunk. Dean was drunk, helladrunk, but he was good at functioning drunk unless he was smashed beyond smashed. He'd gotten her into her apartment. Her t-shirt and shorts were soaked from the wet-tee contest and he didn't want to leave her in those wet clothes. He'd undressed her and she had watched him do it. She'd told him earlier in the night she never slept with a guy on the first night, though he swore he would change her mind. Even drunk, she had told him 'no.' So here he was, undressing her to get her out of her wet clothes, wanting nothing more than to touch that tempting flesh. She kept watching him but never said anything. He found an over large tee that he figured were her pajamas and put her into it, kissed her lightly on the lips, then fell asleep in the chair beside her, wanting to make sure she was okay. Apparently she was a fairly lucid drunk as well, because the next morning she gave him the kiss from hell and thanked him for respecting her and not trying to take advantage of her. That next night, 'no' never crossed her lips.

"You can," Dean said, getting a little harder still, feeling Spike's hand at his waist.

Spike tugged the zipper down slowly, pulling it slightly away from Dean's body and more than a little aware of the hunter's erection. Absolutely normal biological response to being touched in the area, not different than what probably happened when Dean was examined by a doctor, he told himself. Grabbing the sides of Dean's jeans, he pulled them down, one side, then the other, until they were to his knees and he was able to peel them off. "Right, inside," he said, standing and shoving his hands under Dean's arms and pushing so he could turn him and get him into the bed. 

"You're a tease," Dean mumbled as he let Spike manhandle him, getting him moved further up on the bed and pulled back the bedspread. When Spike was helping him move under the covers, Dean twisted suddenly and pulled Spike into bed with him. He was above Spike looking down into surprised blue eyes. Leaning down he kissed Spike lightly on the lips.

"I'm too tired and too drunk for more than that. But you can sleep in my bed if you want," Dean said, then couldn't help but lean down and kiss Spike a little harder before rolling off him. Stuffing an arm under one of the pillows, he had his back to Spike and was laying on his side. He left the sheets still folded back, as if waiting for Spike to slide into bed with him before tugging them up.

Another opportunity to sleep next to the handsome hunter and go slowly mad with need. "How can I refuse an offer like that?" Spike asked, quickly stripping to his tee shirt and shorts and getting in the bed. He rolled close, spooning behind Dean and put an arm over him. It didn't help the feelings this man stirred within him, but tonight, Spike would make bleeding sure any movements by Dean would wake him and they wouldn't have a repeat of that sleep walking episode. He wasn't sure Dean could take that one more time. Spike nuzzled the back of Dean's neck, his arm curling tighter around Dean. 

Dean relaxed in Spike's arms and tugged the covers up. When he felt Spike tease the back of his neck, he gave a soft "mmm" and stretched his neck to give Spike better access if he wanted it. He was honestly too damned tired to get very worked up, though he had no doubt if Spike decided to get frisky with him, he would respond. His cock was already half hard. Wrapping his arm over top of Spike's, he murmured a soft, "Thanks." He hoped he was tired enough and drunk enough that he wouldn't have nightmares tonight. And maybe, just maybe, with Spike there holding him, he would even feel safe and human and get some honest to god sleep.

Making an unintelligible sound of acknowledgement, Spike closed his eyes. He had to distract himself, and he did, thinking... wondering whether this was history repeating itself. The Slayer had used him for a time, and Dean proposed to. Once, the night before Sunnydale went to hell, he'd held Buffy just like this, all night long. He hadn't felt like her sodding brother or friend, he'd wanted a lot more, but he'd done it because it was what she needed the most then. Maybe it was what Dean Winchester needed from him, and maybe Spike was doomed to the same end.   
*  
...He carefully stuck the spoon in his sleeping brother's mouth, took a picture of him with his cell phone, then made enough noise to wake the dead. Sam freaked and sputtered and the practical joke war was on with itching powder and everything in his car turned on and blasting, it was just like old times before Sam went off to college...

...He was at the zoo, talking to the wolves, telling them about Sam being in college and two had come close to the fence, their ears up, watching him with interest. They 'murffed' and whined and seem to talk back to him as if giving him counsel about his brother. For a week he did that and they were always there for him, listening and watching him. Before he left that town he snuck back into the zoo and did one of the stupidest things he had probably ever done. He got those two wolves out of the zoo, got them to follow him out and hop into the car with him. Nothing stranger than having two wolves with their heads hanging out the windows as he barreled down the highway. He took them to a cabin he owned in Colorado. They stayed with him for a few days until he told them to go, it was their new home, and off they went. He never told anyone about the primitive cabin he had bought from a girl, or about the wolves who always seemed to know when he came to visit and showed up on his doorstep. 

Suddenly it was a year later and he was back at the cabin. The wolves were there and showed him their puppies and he wrestled and played with them. The rest of the pack was leery of Dean but after staying there a few days decided Dean was a member of the pack. It had been so very very cool and he had been so happy...

...Lisa was all over him and they spent a couple days doing nothing but sleeping, eating and making love. Gumby Girl had been one of the most amazing lays of his life and when it was over, there was a carnival in town and he took her there, winning her stuffed animals, going on all the rides, and jumping around in the 'spacewalk' tent with her. Arm around her waist they were headed for food when he saw two people making out on a bench. He nudged her and grinned and realized then that he knew them. It was Spike and Marshall. Marshall had his tongue down Spike's throat and Spike's hands were all over Marshall. Dean growled like one of the wolves from his wolf pack, leaving Lisa behind as he walked over to them, yanking Marshall away with inhuman strength. He pulled Spike to his feet and kissed him hard, his hands caressing that lean, muscular man. 

"I'll take care of you, yeah?" Spike whispered in his ear. "If you want me to. Stay with you always. If you'll love me. Can you love a man?" 

Dean stepped back from Spike and looked into those beautiful blue eyes, and began to shake his head. "People I love leave me, or die," he whispered. 

"Well now, I'm already dead, mate. But you can't love me, so maybe he can." Spike walked away from Dean and joined back up with Marshall. Dean called to him but it was like Spike couldn't hear him and he watched as Spike and Marshall left, arm in arm...

Dean opened his eyes to a dark room. He smiled at the flashes of images he remembered from his dreams. He hadn't been up to his cabin in a year. He hadn't even told Sam about it. It was his own little private haven, though it was about as primitive as you could get. He'd bought it from a girl who had taken him up there only to find a chupacabra in the area that had damned near killed them both. She didn't ever want to see it again and sold it to Dean for twenty bucks. He owned the cabin and a good chunk of land around it. He wondered how his wolves were doing and thought about those pups all grown up. To this day, he had no idea what made him get it in his head to rescue those two wolves, and why in the hell he trusted them not to take his arm off or something. He'd have to wait until spring to go visit, he was certain the snowfall would make it near impossible to get to the cabin. The hike was a bitch on a good day.

He realized suddenly that he had dreamed, not tossed and turned from the nightmares that always plagued him. He felt the weight up against his back, Spike's arm around him. A sudden jolt of jealousy went through him at the memory of Spike and Marshall making out, even if it was just a dream. He turned in Spike's arms and looked at the vampire's face. I don't do guys he reminded himself. Never had even a remote interest in guys. But Spike did something to him. Spike made him feel something and he hadn't felt something in so long. Would he be using Spike? He honestly wasn't sure, but he did know he wanted to kiss those lips, claim Spike as his, and not see Spike taking up with Marshall. He wanted Spike and that really messed with his head. Why? Why would he want Spike? Yeah Spike was handsome, almost kind of exotic with those high cheek bones and emotional eyes that just shouldn't exist in the face of a vampire. Maybe because in Hell, gender hadn't mattered and it mattered less to him now than it had before he went. He kept remembering the pleasure that had vibrated through him when Spike was pistoning in him while the vampires watched. He liked that feeling, it was like nothing he had ever really felt before. He remembered Spike's kisses, and the way Spike touched him. Yeah it was all kind of fucked up that he had good memories while being forced to have sex with Spike. All kinds of fucked up, but he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have Spike make love to him without there being anything forced between them. Lukewarm Spike had called it. What did Spike consider hot? He suddenly wanted to know, wanted to know more than anything.

He leaned in and kissed those tempting lips that no breath passed through, kissing him gently and running his hands over Spike's muscles. When Spike opened his eyes, Dean could see them glint and see the man start to push him back and away.

"I want hot," Dean whispered. "Show me hot."


	6. Chapter 6

"What the hell are you doing answering my phone?" Dean said grumpily and snatched the phone from Spike with a glare. He called Sam immediately as he stepped back inside since he only had his sweat pants on and the air was chilly. Sam answered with the first ring.   
"Sammy?" Dean said. "Something up? Told you I'd call you today."

"Dean!" Sam let out a breath of relief. "Who the hell is he, Spike?" The instant he sat down in front of his lap top, he remembered the Brit's advice about not giving his brother anything new to obsess over. "I mean, it had me worried, some stranger getting your phone. He said you were still sleeping?" 

"I told you I had a friend I was helping out. The phone was on the nightstand and, yeah I was still sleeping. Had a helluva day yesterday is all. Spike had good intentions answering my phone though he can be something of a prick at times. So what's going on? Got a new hunt or something?"

Sam minimized the screen, as if it would make the mystery go away. "Nah, everything's dead a the moment. I was thinking of heading over to Bobby's to, you know, regroup. Maybe I will. You wanna?" He had to toss it out, see what Dean wanted to do.

"You better call and make sure he's there. There's this big fucking vampire nest in Tennessee I turned him on to. Gonna take a small army to go in there and take 'em down I think. Way too big for even a couple hunters to take down." Dean hesitated a moment then said, "I'm gonna hang with Spike a few more days if nothing's going on. I think he's handling stuff I wasn't sure he could, but after yesterday, I think it'll be okay. Still, wanna make sure he's got everything under control and doesn't need my help anymore." After a pause Dean added, "So, is Ruby around?" 

"Bobby didn't call me." Sam knew he shouldn't be hurt, he'd been the one to ignore and distance himself from Bobby all the time that Dean had been gone, so why should he expect to be on Bobby's top 'go to' list now. Forcing himself to relax his hunched shoulders he tried to cover the pregnant pause. "No, she hasn't been around in a while. It's just me. So a couple more days and you think you'll... you'll be back?" 

"Hey, it's not like either of us areon the hunters' favorite's list. I'm not going in there either. Best we both steer clear of that many hunters in one place and you know it." Dean felt a bit of relief. "Good. I wish you'd trust me when I tell you that skank is nothing but bad news, even if she did save your life. She's got her own agenda Sam. She a demon." Dean gave a sigh. "Sam, I'm not leaving you hanging out to dry. Look, why don't you go ahead and head to Bobby's. I'll be there soon. Just...just try to take a few days off from the apocalypse or something. Stop off and sight see along the way or whatever. Take a breather for a few days. The apocalypse will still be there in a week. A couple more days with Spike, and then I'll hit the road for Bobby's."

"Sure Dean, I'll meet you there. Just... don't let him drag you into anything. With a name like Spike, I can just imagine what kind of trouble he'd lead to." Just the type Dean liked to get into, that's what Sam thought. If they didn't have an apocalypse that Dean wanted to take a vacation from, or a demon named Lilith to get, he'd be fine with it. He shut the phone and looked at his watch. Hearing the knock on the door, a determined look crossed his features and he got up to open it.

*

Spike moved into front of the door and looked inside. "Guess the feeling is mutual then, he's not thrilled with me either."

"His BFF right now is a fucking demon. I'm not thrilled with his choice of companions either." Dean scowled a little and measured Spike. "What did he say that makes you 'not thrilled' with him."

"Now that's a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it. Unless last night didn't happen," Spike said, ignoring the question. Tossing the cigarette to the ground, he stepped on it, never taking his eyes of Dean.

"It's way different. She wormed her way in by saying she could save me from my deal. Then she tells me she can't. Then she keeps trying to convince Sam that she can by trying to get him to do stuff, train or something. While I was in Hell she got Sam working his psychic mojo crap and it's wrong, it's bad. I feel it in my gut. He promised me he wouldn't do it and he did anyhow." Dean sank down onto the bed. "He trusts the skank more than he trusts me, his own god damned brother. I've spent all my fucking life looking out for the kid and this...this is what I get. Lies. Nothing but lies." He fought back the burning tears. As if he wasn't empty enough inside, the thought of Sam with the bitch, doing what she told him to do, might as well be a knife cutting out his heart.

"Dean, there are some _areas_ you can't compete in." Spike crossed the room and put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Unless he likes cock, and even then, the whole brothers thing might..." He had to put a second hand on Dean, to keep him in place, and probably from punching him. "That's it hunter, find your anger. Conquer your pain and come up with a plan, how are you going to beat some sense into your brother? Might take some time, but you will, you'll find the right button. _If_ you keep trying."

"I don't have a damned bit of trouble finding my fucking anger!" Dean snarled at Spike. "Everything I've tried, he just blows off, goes to her instead!" Dean stopped fighting Spike's hold on his shoulders and just folded. "I don't know what else to do." He shrugged as best he could with Spike's hands there. "I'm out of ideas. I'm out of options. All I can do is just try to be there for him, and keep trying to convince him Ruby is bad news. But I'm losing that battle. I see it in his eyes. Hell, I've probably already lost that battle." He finally brushed away Spike's hands. "I'm gonna sleep some more. Why don't you go out and enjoy the sun. Looks like it'll be another nice sunny day for you." He gave Spike a strained smile. "Go on."

"Not on your life. You told me not to leave, and I didn't. Now you're keeping me company, yeah?" Reaching down, he grabbed Dean by the arms this time and started to pull him up. "Then we'll come back and take a rest. If you're doing the 'vampire's hours' thing for me, we'll have to go to bed a lot later." He could see the hunter wasn't in the mood, but he had to try. 

All Dean really wanted to do was sleep and try to forget how betrayed he felt by his own brother. But he had asked Spike to stay and it wasn't fair to Spike not to give Spike time in the sun in return. He let Spike pull him to his feet.

"Fine," Dean said, a little sharper than he maybe meant to. "I need a shower first. Then coffee and food. Figure out what you want to see. There's probably flyers and crap in the lobby. It's a drive but we could go see the ocean if you want but it'll probably be cold as hell with the wind."

"Go on, take your shower."

Once Dean disappeared into the bathroom, Spike went to the small lobby, got a few pamphlets and returned with two steaming cups of coffee. The smell of coffee was always something he'd liked. Setting the cups down on the nightstand, he laid back on the bed, pushing an extra pillow under his head. He had a feeling the hunter was going to be prickly today when by all rights he should have awakened in a great mood. There had to be a word more complicated than _complicated_ to describe the man.

*

Dean had the shower on letting the water warm up and heard the door shut. Hopefully Spike was doing like he asked, finding some stuff for them to do or see. God he needed coffee. He felt tired which he shouldn't because damn, he had slept really good last night. He knew he got bitchy when he didn't get as much sleep as he wanted. Course he had noticed Spike had neatly deflected his question about what Sam said to him that made Spike think Sam didn't like him and instead was trying to find out whether Dean regretted sleeping with him last night. Dean couldn't blame him. If the situation was reversed he would want to know the same thing.

Dean stepped under the hot water, surprised at the quantity of dried cum still on him and scrubbed himself thoroughly, a couple times over. Shit, the sex had been awesome. Better than awesome. Right up there with that night with Lisa. He sighed softly. He had a fantastic day yesterday. He wanted today to be as good if not better and it wouldn't be if he was shitty to Spike. He wasn't pissed at Spike, he was pissed at his brother. That long pause before Sam denied Ruby was around...yeah, more lies though he wanted to believe it. He was also irritated Sam couldn't wait for Dean to call. Probably because he had things to do with the skank. Dean pressed his forehead against the cool tile and just stared at nothing for a few minutes, letting the water cascade over his sore muscles. Fuck, he was sore everywhere. Between the swimming and fucking and bruises from the vampire house of horrrors, and the new bruises he surely added when he and Spike were slamming into each other like eight year olds at the amusement park, he wasn't surprised he was sore. Funnel cake...yeah they would have to stop by the carnival and get some more funnel cake tonight. He wondered if there was any description of it he could come up with that would gross out the vampire. He'd have to think on it.

By the time he got out of the shower, he couldn't deny he felt a helluva lot better. For as much cum as there had been he was surprised Spike and he hadn't been all but glued together this morning.

He dried off and realized he hadn't brought in fresh clothes. He debated about giving Spike a thrill and decided he would. There was something about that vampire that made him want to tease the guy until he was hard. He paused at the mirror and looked at the vampire bite. With those teeth, he was shocked he didn't have a great big bite that looked like a dog had gotten hold of him. He ran his fingers over it. It hardly hurt and looked half healed up already. Huh. Pausing at the door, hand on the knob, he decided after he got dressed he would reassure the vampire he was cool with what happened the night before.

Dean came out of the bathroom naked and felt water drip onto his shoulders from his still wet hair. The scent of coffee hit him. Walking over to his duffel, he pulled out some fresh clothes, bending over a little as he pulled on his underwear, giving Spike a clear view of his bare ass. He slipped into his jeans and pulled on a t-shirt then walked over to the coffee which was on the nightstand by Spike. He took a careful sip of the coffee and was pleased to find it was pretty decent coffee for motel coffee. 

"Mmm, dude, you rock," Dean said as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the coffee a minute. He set the coffee down and saw that Spike had gathered a few pamphlets. Dean sat down on the the same bed as Spike. "Hey," he said, waiting for Spike to look at him. When Spike did, Dean leaned in and kissed him, sliding his tongue into the vampire's mouth and tangling it with Spike's for a moment before breaking the kiss. With laughing eyes and a smirk Dean told him, "I'm not sure which is better. Last night's sex or this coffee."

Wanting to gage Dean's mood, Spike had silently endured the teasing, the naked bending over and the slow slide of clothes being pulled up Dean's legs and then covering his chest. Either Dean was flirting, which he liked and wanted more of or he had decided last night never happened and that Spike was back to just being a 'thing' and walking bout bare arsed was of no consequence. The kiss was a nice surprise though, unexpected and too bloody short, but nice. "Tonight's sex," Spike answered, without missing a beat and running his hand up and down Dean's side. He was anything but sure it would happen, but he had to toss it out there and the kiss did give him hope in that direction. 

Dean chuckled as he straightened up. He was glad to see the veiled look gone from Spike's eyes like Spike was waiting for the other shoe to drop or something. "Don't start something," he cautioned Spike lightly smacking his hand. "You know if we stay in the room I'll fall asleep. And the sun is only up for so long. And I'm starved and I'm cranky when I'm hungry, and pissy when I'm starved. Grab the pamphlets and let's get to the diner." He slapped Spike on the thigh and stood up. He had planned to sit there and go through the pamphlets with Spike, but his growling stomach demanded food before anything else.

Dean gathered his wallet and keys, slipped into a couple more layers of shirts, and pulled on his old coat. The vamps had taken his newer one and his watch. He really needed to replace both but shrugged it off for now. Really, what did it matter what time it was? And this coat was okay for now, a couple stains of blood that hadn't come out in the wash and it was ripped and torn here and there, but so were his jeans. He saw Spike almost hesitate at the door and wondered how long it would take Spike to get used to the idea the sun wasn't going to turn him to smoldering pile of ash. 

"We really should get you some sunblock and sunglasses," Dean said as he tugged the door shut behind him, being careful not to spill his coffee. 

"The slight pain reminds me I'm alive, or close to it anyway." It did remind Spike of the gift he'd been given, assuming there were no negative ramifications to this version vampire that he'd turned into. It wasn't something he was going to worry about, there was no point in betting against himself. Glancing at Dean, he followed him across the car park.

Once they reached the diner and were settled at the table, Dean pulled some of the pamphlets over. "So where are we going to today Kimosabe?"

"Kimo what be? Never mind, I'm sure I won't like it," Spike added giving Dean a wary look. "Right, there's a festival, called Pig On The Ridge. It's a barbeque cook off or some such, but there'll be classic cars and a party, lots of beer. Down your alley," he said. "Or there's a re-enactment of the Revolutionary War. We could go watch and make fun of how your countrymen exaggerate the kicking of my king's arse." Not that he'd given a damn about his king back then.

Dean laughed at the look Spike gave him. "Dude, watching people pretend to shoot each other and die, or food, cars and beer? Never much for history unless it was Schoolhouse Rock. Pig of the Ridge, most definitely." The waitress showed up then and Dean and Spike both requested coffees until Dean had a chance to look at the menu. Dean watched her ass as she walked away. She was pretty hot for a diner waitress. He shook his head and returned his gaze to the man across the table from him. "So, you really don't eat and won't enjoy the barbeque, though you do beer and will enjoy that. Do you even like classic cars or is this just for me?"

"Don't flatter yourself. Next you'll accuse me of taking you out on a date. And I drink coffee, and eat that wormy thing you try to hoard. And she's married, or has kids at least," he added, Dean's interest in the girl not having escaped him. "Four of them, you'd make a great da."

"I don't need to flatter myself," Dean said, smirking. "And date? No, don't think so. Yeah, coffee and alcohol, but those are necessities of life, or unlife, or whatever. And I seem to recall offering you _half_ of it. You're the one who tried to hoard it." Dean's gaze shot back to the waitress. "And just how the hell would you know she's married and has four kids. She didn't have on a wedding ring. You're fucking full of. I'm surprised your eyes aren't shit-brown instead of thunderbird blue."

Spike made a face at having been caught out though he didn't roll over. "I have this thing called a sense of smell and I smell four little horrors that have crawled all over her. Thunderbirds... you like those?" He knew full well Dean wasn't going to make that admission so he went on. "Let's do the Pig thing, but I'll take the keys if you're drinking. It's a long drive. Don't give me that look, I was bloody well around when driving was _invented_ so I'm more than qualified."

"She works at a diner. Hard telling where those smells come from. That's assuming you're not lying through your teeth again about what a vamp can and can't do," Dean said giving him a suspicious look. "Yeah, Thunderbirds are good looking cars. And you are so not getting my keys. No one drives my baby but me. And when driving was _invented_ no one took driving lessons and cars didn't go more than fifteen miles an hour."

The waitress showed up with their coffees and Dean gave her a charming smile. "I've got a wager with my friend here. He says you're married with four kids, and I say you're single and available. So who wins the bet," he looked at her name tag, "Charlene?"

Her gaze went first to one of the men, then the other, then back to Dean. "Single, available, and off work at three," she said with a smile, "I'll be happy to take you back to my place and prove it." Winking, she rattled off the lunch specials. "So what will it be?"

"Three o'clock, that's too bad. He's busy until evening and..." Spike said.

"Oh, I can give him my address, sweetie," she answered, looking back at Dean again.

"The barbeque is quite far," Spike reminded Dean.

Dean glanced at Spike and couldn't tell if Spike was acting jealous or not, but he thought maybe he was and grinned to himself. "Why don't you gimme your number," he said with a wink. "If we get back early enough maybe I'll be able to give you a call. And I'll have the special with the cheeseburger."

Charlene scribbled her name, number and address down on the back of an order slip and slid it over to him. She smiled at Spike. "Debra thinks you're cute by the way. I'm sure she'd give you her number. And she'll die when I tell her you're English." She discreetly pointed out a busty short blonde with long hair and a sparkling smile. When the waitress realized Spike and Dean were looking at her, her cheeks reddened and she hurried behind the counter. Charlene scribbled something on her order pad, gave Dean a smile and lingering look, then headed back to place the order.

"She's not your type," Dean told Spike. "She's married with four rugrats."

"Always did like rugrats, the grubbier the better." His gaze met Dean's. "It's a real shame we're going to be 'that' late getting back."

"Are we now?" Dean asked, trying to read Spike and was frustrated that he couldn't. Did Spike want to get back early enough to take the girls out--and Dean wasn't quite sure how he felt about that--or was he wanting to keep Dean out too late for the ladies?

"Real shame," he nodded. "You'll just have to make due with me while I compete with the motel coffee. Got something on your mind, hunter?" He wasn't sure, but he felt there was more than joking going on between them. 

Dean was silent a moment. Did he want to have sex with Spike again? It had been good and...he let Spike top because he was afraid of what he might do, but he wondered how it would feel to have Spike beneath him. To have someone willingly bottom for him. He felt his emotions twist around inside him. He didn't want to use Spike and last night hadn't been that. But he didn't want to take advantage of Spike for his own selfish purposes. Spike had told him 'no' and he wanted to make damned sure he was sleeping with Spike because he wanted to, not because he needed to. "Might have to. Coffee was pretty damned good though. Just thinking about barbeque and beer and classic cars. So just how far away is this Pig-Ridge anyhow?" 

"This far on a map," he showed Dean by holding his thumb and index fingers up. He hadn't really answered because it wasn't more than a few hours and he was thinking on Dean's reaction. He wasn't going to push the hunter, same as he'd told Sam not to put pressure on the man. "There's a ghost town on the way, we could stop to see if there are any about. It might make both of us feel right at home."

Dean gave a snort. "Real good estimate of distance there Spike. No, no ghost towns. I'm not missing barbeque and classic cars to spend the day researching and digging up bones to salt and burn. It can be someone else's problem today." He gave Spike a look and an almost resigned sigh. Of course, it was probably the good old Winchester Curse. He'd had one day of fun. Mustn't give him too many days of feeling semi-human again or he might get used to it. "Unless you know there are really ghosts there that have been causing problems?"

"Never heard of the place before, sorry." He shrugged. "I meant just to see what gimmicks they've used to get tourists. It's probably not a real ghost town, there are very few of those. I thought you might need to kill a bit of time before you stuffed your face again but I forgot who I was dealing with." As if on cue, the food arrived and the flirty waitress set Dean's food down in front of him and took her time about it. Spike drummed his fingers on the table, his gaze on Dean's eyes which were staring at her neckline. She must have pulled her blouse and apron down right before she came over, Spike thought.

Dean chatted with the waitress very briefly, his eyes taking in her newly exposed skin and the way she bent over just a little extra for him. When she walked away Dean noticed she had left a slip of paper for Spike with a number on it. Must be Darla or Debra or whatever the blond's name was. He also noticed Spike's drumming fingers and a very mild glare coming from Spike. Yeah, there was definitely a little bit of jealousy there. "Well, maybe we'll check it out on the way back or something if you're sure there's not any real ghosts there. Have I mentioned the Winchester Curse to you yet? If something bad can happen it will happen, and not just run of the mill crap but grade A, holy shit stuff. Just so you know." With that, Dean picked up his burger and took a big bite of it, juices running down his chin and an 'mmm' coming from his throat.

* * *

Dean had enjoyed himself more than he would have believed. The food was great, the beer was decent beer not piss water, and the classic cars, he hadn't seen so many classic cars in one place maybe ever. He talked with a lot of the owners, looked at engines, wished he could afford to chrome out a few things on his baby or get a hemi carb for her. He drank most the day, but he mostly nursed his beers except at the very beginning. Spike seemed to be interested, walking along with him and occassionally throwing in a comment when they came across the couple old British cars. Dean hoped Spike hadn't been too bored, but Spike pretty much stayed with him even if he was. If it had been Sam, hell, Sam probably would have sat under the tent with his damned laptop. Even more likely, Sam would have just stayed at the motel and told Dean to go by himself.

They arrived back at the motel not long after sunset. Dean pulled into the parking lot. "You go on in. I'm going out for a little bit."

That caught Spike unawares. He'd already opened the door and had a foot out, expecting Dean to get out of the car too. He turned and searched his face. "Weren't you tired?" There were twenty other questions in his head, but it was the only one he could ask.

Dean shrugged. "Kinda used to it." He gave Spike a smile. "I'm fine. I'll see you later, okay? Don't wait up."

It was a facade, but for the life of him, Spike couldn't get behind it... couldn't fathom what was really in the hunter's mind. He supposed it had to be Millicent, or whatever the bloody hell the waitress was called. Reminding himself he had no claim on the hunter, he gave a nod. "Right then, don't do anything I wouldn't." He got out of the car and closed the door, but looked through the window for a moment, before straightening and waiting for Dean to leave him there.

Dean felt a little guilty leaving Spike there but he needed some time to himself, some time just to think. The carnival was still going and there was a bar not far from the motel, so if Spike got bored he could always check those out. Dean drove until he found a secluded pull-off with a decent view, and once he parked and shut down the engine he dug out his still half full bottle of Jack.

* * * 

He looked a lot more like himself, the old Spike. The Big Bad, what with his new black leather duster layered over a red shirt and black tee, rugged motorcycle boots, and a bit of product in his hair. He'd considered black eyeliner but hadn't gone quite that far. Not yet anyway. He'd love to think, to tell himself it was because he'd been bored, or because he'd needed clothes, but he knew the truth. He was overcompensating. He felt nothing like the Big Bad at the moment.

When Dean had left him at the motel, he'd tried to watch the telly or sleep. Neither plan had worked. Instead, it was his mind that had done all the working. For a few hours, he'd gone over every minute they'd spent together. Recalled the way Dean laughed or shoved him away, or pulled him close. He hadn't been faking, they'd both enjoyed themselves. Last night. Today. All of it. Yet Dean had pushed him away to... Right, he'd never said where he was going. Spike's strides lengthened as he headed down the sidewalk, his duster billowing behind him. 

He wanted Dean to be better, to find himself. Shouldn't he be happy the hunter had found the courage to spend the night with that waitress, and that maybe, just maybe, being with him last night had helped? Yes, he bloody well should be happy, and yet he wasn't. Last night had been so good that despite the way Dean had looked at the waitress, Spike had been quite sure there would be a repeat performance. Round two. Him and Dean. _Wrong, bloody fucking wrong._ The thing of it was, he wasn't so sure it was just missing the sex that annoyed him. What annoyed... no, hurt was that they'd had a perfect day and it had been brought to a screeching halt with Dean ending it early to see the blonde. It was the company he missed, the sense of having someone there who was a friend and who cared, which was nonsense since they'd known each other for only a short while. Only Spike did care about Dean and more importantly, for Dean. Every day, every hour, just a little more. He was going down _that road_ again, he knew it.

He'd been in love with the Slayer. It had been rocky, impossible, explosive and beautiful, and when it ended, despite what she'd told him to the contrary, he'd known what he'd always known. He loved her more than she ever loved him. More than she could ever love him. It wasn't her fault, it was his lot in life or unlife. He was the one who had to live with it. Still, the parallels he drew in his mind were eerie. He'd pushed Buffy, forced her to either see past the fact he was a vampire or to find the darkness in her, the part that wanted a bit of pain and kink in order to feel, to know she was alive. Was history repeating itself here? He baited and pushed Dean, he made no bones about wanting sex and making it interesting and kinky with room for much more and hopes of more. 

Tortured by these thoughts, he'd been constantly looking at the clock and listening for the Impala's engine. Waiting for the impossible, falling for Slayers and Hunters. Right, this vampire needed to get his head examined. Worse yet, he needed to get it together. While he'd been busy feeling sorry for himself, something dark and familiar had crept up on him with a vengeance. A craving for blood, for human blood. It was one thing to want it when he was having sex or vaguely think about it, and another to have every cell in his body clamoring for it, clawing at him insistently and driving his thoughts in that direction. It hadn't been like that last night, not before and after the blood lust once he'd taken a taste. This was like when he'd first been turned, an undeniable hunger that ravaged his insides and demanded satisfaction.

Dean. A human on the telly. Dean. The woman at reception. Whoever was out in the lot. Ideas for sources of blood kept popping into his head until he was nearly driven mad by it. That's when he'd left, gone to find clothes, gone in search of himself, the Big Bad who'd conquered his blood lust a long time ago. The shopping expedition had taken his mind off his needs for a bit. But they were back full force now. He knew he was focusing too often on the throats of humans walking by. He knew he shouldn't be, and that he shouldn't walk into this bar packed with humans with warm blood gushing through their veins. He shouldn't be thinking about where there might be a blood doll house either, or whether he should hit a blood bank even though deep down he knew he wanted the blood fresh and being pumped out by a strong heart. And definitely, definitely he ought to stop thinking about creating trouble so he could justify taking the blood of some arsehole who'd taken a punch at him. 

Maneuvering between bodies crushing together, he held his breath and started to mentally recite the poem he'd recited for Dean when they'd been in the vampire nest. He needed it now as much as Dean had needed it then.

***

Dean sat on the hood of his car, looking up at the stars, watching them creep slowly across the sky. He could even see the Milky Way in that big dark sky. He drank slowly from his bottle of Jack, not particularly wanting to get smashed. He did have to drive back to the motel, after all. In Hell the sky was red or black or orange or grey. Even though the sky was black here, it wasn't the black of Hell. The sky held an almost magical quality about it and he could remember sitting with a young Sam as Sam pointed out all the constellations and who they were named after and pointed out various stars. He didn't recall most of them, but that didn't matter. It was a good memory.

Letting his thoughts wander he realized he really was a selfish prick. He went to get Sam from college because he didn't want to be alone, and with their father missing, there was no one to hang with, to drink with, to hustle with, and have fun with. Sure there was the family business, and Dean really wanted the family back together, though Sam and their dad in the same room was a recipe for disaster. If he had never gone to get Sam, would Sam be in the middle of a normal life? No, Yellow Eyes would have seen to it that Sam was drawn back in to hunting somehow. That didn't change the fact Dean had picked up Sam for selfish reasons. That first year, hunting for their father, it had been awesome having his brother back with him. Sure, they fought, but hey, that's what brothers did. The second year was harder. Sam was still pretty innocent, but the psychic crap was wearing on him, making him feel like a freak and terrified he was going to go bad. Irony. Yellow Eyes was dead but the demon's legacy lived on. Sam was going bad, just like he had feared.

Sitting out in the chill air, his mind recalled so many things from his life, sad times, angry times, happy times. He was happiest when the family was together and now...now he felt alone. He wondered how much of that aloneness came from being in Hell. Was it the fact he had these terrible secrets of what he had done in Hell that he couldn't tell anyone about? _Not true. Spike gets it._ he thought to himself.

Since Spike had come into his life, he didn't feel quite so alone. And Spike had looked out for him from day one. Telling him the rules of the game at the vampire's house. Keeping his shattered mind from just falling apart at the first 'show' they had gone to. Jumping up on stage to help him take down the bitch. Trying to make it as easy on him as possible when the vamps wanted to watch Spike and him have sex. He didn't understand it. Why would a complete stranger care so much? They hardly knew each other but he could see it in Spike's eyes that Spike was growing more and more fond of him. He didn't quite know what to make of that, either. He had only ever had a few people in his life that really cared about him. It was almost a cosmic joke that a supernatural being, a vampire, liked him.

He wondered if Spike was falling in love with him even though he didn't deserve love, not after the things he had done. Maybe Spike and he were simply kindred spirits and the awesome sex was just sex and nothing more. Were Spike and he just friends? Did Dean want something more from Spike, more than 'therapy?' He didn't have the answers. He didn't seem to have the answers to much of anything anymore. One foot in front of the other, going through the motions, trying to keep Sam from going darkside, and trying to figure out why in Hell God thought he was worth saving. There were so many others far worthier than he was. For that matter, he wished God would step in and save Sam since Dean couldn't seem to manage it.

He finally glanced at his watch. It was going on midnight. He hadn't really resolved anything in his mind. He still didn't have an answer for any of his questions, but he had to admit, he was sort of looking forward to going back to the motel, sitting with Spike, talking, and spooning up behind Spike or vice versa. He wasn't ready for more sex. He didn't want to use Spike and he wasn't sure yet if he was or wasn't. But he did want Spike's company, the warmth, figuratively speaking, of Spike's body close to his, of feeling cared about and loved no matter what he had done. He was glad he had taken some alone time even if he hadn't sorted a damned thing out.

He tossed the empty bottle in the back seat and climbed into the car. Crap, he didn't realize how cold it had gotten. The engine turned over and soon he had heat coming out of the vents. By the time he had reached the motel, he was fairly thawed out. He sighed to himself with something close to contentment. Spike was inside probably with the TV on. The curtains were drawn but it didn't look like any lights were on though. Spike _was_ a vampire. He probably didn't really need much light to see.

Dean walked into the room, a smile on his face. He was ready for a shower and then to crawl into bed with Spike but the TV wasn't on and when Dean flipped on the lights, the room was empty. He looked out on the little back porch. Spike wasn't there either. The smile slipped from his face. Well, what the hell did he expect? Spike to sit around waiting on him? Selfish, so damned selfish of him just to expect Spike to be there. Looking around for a note, he didn't find one and the TV was long cold.

Screw the shower. His lips pressed together in a flat line. Sitting on the bed he pulled off his boots, then stripped out of his clothes, leaving them on the floor in a pile. He shut off the light then crawled into bed, listening for the sound of Spike's boots, listening for the doorknob to rattle, as he stared off into the dark. Finally his eyes drifted closed, holding a pillow against his chest as if to make up for the keen absence of the vampire.

*

Spike ran a hand over the hood of the impala. It was as cold as the night. His gaze flicked to their motel room. The curtains were drawn and there was no light behind them. Maybe the waitress had an early day and the hunter wanted to sleep another day away. Leaning against the vehicle, Spike finished having his smoke. If he was lucky, Dean would be asleep. Somehow, for all the yearning he'd had for the man's company earlier, he just wanted his mind to turn off, and for sleep to take him now. Flicking the butt of the cigarette away, he headed for the room.

Inside, he found Dean had left the bathroom door cracked open with a light on inside. That drew a snort out of him as he turned his head to look at the man., then took a few steps so he was right over him, watching. He looked so innocent and vulnerable in sleep, and the way he was clutching that pillow like it was a teddy bear or something made his heart clench. Reaching down, he brushed his hand over Dean's forehead and hair and asked himself _what sort of idiot played with fire?_

The touch on his forehead made Dean stir, his eyes slitting open sleepily. He couldn't see much with only the sliver of the bathroom light to help chase away the shadows, but he smelled leather and instantly thought of his father. Was he feverish? Was his dad checking his temperature? No...no his father was dead. Sam didn't wear leather. His eyes focused on that outline. 

"Spike?" he mumbled. He groaned and made himself move over to give Spike room to slip into bed with him and pulled the covers back some so Spike could. "Missed you," he murmured. Stuffing his arm back under his pillow he nestled down, his mind waiting for that dip in the mattress that would tell him Spike was joining him, staying on the borderline between waking and sleeping until he felt that body up against him.

"Did you now?" He stroked Dean's face this time, moving his palm all the way over Dean's shoulder and up the arm he had in the air. "Go back to sleep, sorry I woke you." 

Dean took hold of Spike's hand when it got close enough to his own and tugged a little. "C'mon. Sleep 'side me."

Sleep with him. Spike flashed back to the night before the final battle. This was pretty much all the Slayer had needed of him. "Alright, I'll hold you," he answered. "Let me get out of my clothes." Squeezing Dean's hand lightly, he pulled his own back and shrugged his duster off. Folding it in half, he tossed it on the empty bed, then sat down onto Dean's bed and bent over, taking his boots off. He wasn't sure about this, he had all sorts of mixed feelings, but mostly they were selfish. Another look at Dean's face and that bloody pillow and he had a reason not to protect himself, but to want to protect this man. Taking his socks off, he got rid of the overshirt, then reluctantly stood up to unzip his pants and strip down to his tee and shorts.

A moment later, he was in the bed, pulling the pillow from Dean's grasp and putting it behind his back. Half sitting, he put and arm around Dean, making it clear he could move closer and rest on his chest if he wanted.

Dean opened his eyes a little wider, though they were still foggy with sleep. "What're you doing? Wan' you up against me, not holdin' me like a chick." Dean licked his lips. "You too awake? I'll stay up if you gimme coffee." 

He had to laugh at that and taking a cue from the direction Dean was moving, Spike pulled the pillow down and turned onto his side. "It's alright, sleep will come when it does." He was puzzled, there was no scent of the waitress coming from Dean. "You have a good evening?" he asked, feeling the mattress dip toward him before Dean's arm closed over his side and held him around the waist. So warm, the hunter always emitted a lot of heat.

"Mmmhuh. Lotsa stars out," Dean said as he spooned up against Spike and kissed the back of his neck. "More questions than answers, though. You? And if you say the word 'Marshall' I _will_ bite you or something."

A shiver of pure pleasure ran through Spike, making him put his hand over Dean's and press it tight against his belly. "I won't mention him, then." He could hear the rushing of Dean's blood. How it sang to him, called him in ways a human could never imagine. Even his fangs ached, though he made certain they stayed retracted. "Same. Lots of drinks, and more questions than answers.' Dean's hot breaths fanned over his throat and had him swallowing hard. 

"Mmm. Sucks. Confusing. Better in the mornin' after we sleep." He pulled Spike just a little tighter against him. "'Night, Spike," he mumbled, sighing with contentment and letting sleep take him again, a smile on his lips.

"Goodnight," he said a little tightly. "And try not to use the word 'sucks.' Vampire here." Forcing his eyes shut, Spike started to recite poetry again. He'd resisted at the nest, when he was starving and the scent of blood permeated the air. He would damned well resist temptation now.

***

Dean was sort of surprised he woke up up before Spike, but since he did, he quietly slipped out. He could wait to get his shower after Spike was awake. Glancing at the closet, he decided to check how much blood Spike had left. He had no idea how often the vampire might need to eat. There was blood in the ice chest, but since he was going out, maybe Spike would like some fresher blood. Checking the time, he figured the local butcher might be open. He asked at the desk where he could find a butcher, and grabbed some coffee while he was there. He also noticed there was a microwave there. Warm blood had to be better than cold blood.

He grabbed a spare cup and lid so he could come back in and warm some up for Spike without anyone being the wiser that it was blood and not coffee. He hit the local donut shop then went to the butcher, got some burgers and some blood, though the butcher gave him an odd look at his request. He stopped off at a little grocery store and picked up some charcoal and buns and fixings along with potato chips and pie and paper plates. Satisfied he had everything, he filled up the empty coffee cup with blood and returned to the motel. He got two cups of coffee in case Spike wasn't hungry, and warmed up the cup of blood a little. Making sure no one was watching, he dipped his finger in. Seemed about body temperature and he didn't want to heat it up too much. He slid the cups into a carrying tray, stopped at the car and got the bag of goodies and his breakfast, and quietly entered the room.

Dressed and sitting on the bed, Spike had wondered if maybe Dean had decided they would do things separately today. It wasn't an idea he would fight since it would be better to fight one battle at a time. But here he was, coffee and other things in hand. He cocked his head at the distinct smell of blood. "You didn't..." For some reason, he couldn't believe the hunter had warmed blood for him, or that his stomach was turning at the though of cow blood. It wasn't what he wanted, he thought, his gaze latching onto Dean's convulsing Adam's apple, as the bloke drank his coffee.

"Morning!" Dean said, seeing Spike was up. "I brought donuts and coffee and got you some fresh cow's blood that I heated up in the microwave a little. Figured cold blood is kinda like cold coffee, drinkable, but not great. I picked up some burgers and chips and stuff. Thought maybe we'd go have a cookout this afternoon at that park by the lake we drove by. I saw they had grills there. S'pose to be a warm sunny day and figured you might like that. Maybe they've got canoes to rent or something. Or fishing poles. Thought we'd just kinda take a chill day today unless," Dean looked at Spike, "you made other plans?"

Getting up, Spike took his coffee and _his_ blood from Dean and set both cups next to the bed. He was quick to move away from the hunter and he held his breath when he'd been close to him. Fat lot of good that did him, he knew exactly how Dean smelled, and how his blood sounded and would taste. Licking his lips, he gave a tight smile. "I'm all yours. Fishing. Haven't done that in decades. I'm not eating what I catch though." His hand rested on the nightstand, fingers drumming on it.

Dean frowned a little at the way Spike was keeping his distance and seemed distraught or upset no matter what his words said. "You okay? Did I...did I screw up or something?"

"Eh? No, it's not you. Thanks, for..." he pointed at the nightstand with his chin. When Dean's gaze lingered on him, it felt like the hunter was seeing straight through him. He looked away, his hand fisting around some of the bedding and holding as tightly to it as Dean had been clutching the pillow last night. "You wanted to babysit me, well here's your chance hunter. You watch me carefully," he said gruffly, hating that the words had to come out of his mouth. Hating more that the look of sheer excitement at going to the lake would be gone from Dean's eyes the next time he looked at the man.

Spike's words were like a stake to his own heart. The hunger, the blood lust of the new type of vampire Spike was, it was finally rearing its head. "We'll get you through this," Dean said with more confidence than he felt. Fear welled up in Dean. He couldn't keep his own brother from going darkside. What made him think he could keep Spike from going bad? He was such a fuck up and failure in everything, what if he failed Spike too? _No. I can do this. I will do this. Spike wants to stay good and that'll make all the difference. Its got to._ "You've done it before. What do you need me to do? Do you feel safe going out? Do you feel you need to be restrained? I can pick up some deadman's blood if you want. It'll keep you weak enough you won't be able to overpower me. We can just use a small amount, just enough to keep you under control. Tell me what to do and you've got it. I told you I'd stay with you for as long at it takes, and I meant it. Whatever it takes, I'm here."

On hearing the question about being restrained, Spike's gaze flew back to Dean's, a demand to know why he was so hot for that solution at the tip of his tongue until he saw the hunter's earnest look and started to think rather than to react. It wasn't an unreasonable question and he ought to maybe be grateful it was even in the form of a question. "Fishing, I want to go out soon as you eat," he answered. "Rest of it, not unless it's necessary. It isn't now," he said, not flinching from Dean's piercing gaze. "I'll be fine. Just... just needed you to know, in case." A muscle pulsed in his jaw. "This resets everything for you, doesn't it?"

Walking over to Spike, he sat down by him and ran the back of his fingers down Spike's face. " I've see these types of vamps beat the blood lust. And obviously you did for years. It's a reset for _you_ , not me, but I can't read your mind. I don't know how bad it is, I don't know what you feel. I'll eat my donuts, drink my coffee, then we'll head out to the lake. I am going to get some deadman's blood tonight because there's no way in hell I'm killing you if you have a weak moment. The deadman's blood will give you a chance to get back under control, and we'll just take this a day at a time. I have faith in you Spike."

He kissed Spike on the temple. "Drink your cow's blood if you can, before it gets cold. I gotta get some ice for the picnic food. I'll be right back," he said, going over to the ice chest and opening it, pulling out the couple beers that were left in the cold water and sitting them on the carpet. He gave Spike a smirk as he headed out the door. "No snaking any of my donuts!"

"No guaranties, I've got a sweet tooth." Spike gave Dean a watery smile. Dean had faith in him. The opposite of what the'd thought. The very, bleeding, opposite. And the same tactics at the Slayer. Closing his eyes, he remembered the first time he'd been about to take a taste of human after he'd been unchipped. One thing had stopped him from ripping into a woman's throat, one thing... her faith. All she had to do was tell him she had faith, and he'd stopped cold. 

Once Dean was gone, Spike stared at the cup of warm cow blood. His gaze automatically moved to the door, his eyes narrowing. He pushed himself off the bed and started to take a step to follow the hunter, then stopped, his insides feeling like they'd been torn from his body the instant he decided he wasn't going to drink from Dean. He grasped the cup and brought it to his mouth. An unfamiliar sensation washed over him. Nausea. Determined, he brought the cup to his mouth and started to drink. He was halfway through before his stomach rebelled. Only gagging sounds left him as he put the cup down and licked his mouth free of the liquid that tasted the way mold smelled. Grabbing the coffee, he drank a few gulps and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him and leaving the 'do not disturb' sign up.

*

As soon as Dean filled up the ice chest, he pulled out his phone and dialed his brother. "Sam, I was planning on heading out tomorrow, but things have gone south for Spike. I promised him I'd help, so I'm staying for a while longer."

"South... south, how?" Walking across the room, Sam moved the phone from his left ear to his right and sat down on the bed. "Anything I can do to help?"

Dean hesitated. "He's gotten sick. His needs someone to be here to help him get back on his feet. No, there's really nothing you can do...well he's got a friend," Dean wracked his brains, what the hell was her last name? "Buffy Summers, in Italy. Can you get me her phone number? I'd like to call her and let her know. They're pretty close, but I don't want Spike knowing I talked with her. I'd 'ppreciate it, Sam. A lot."

"In Italy? Dude it's a big place, what city? And why don't you get him to a hospital or isn't it _that kind of sick._. Come on man, talk to me, let me help you."

"I don't know what city. How many Buffy Summers can there be in Italy? Try Rome or something first," Dean said with annoyance. Sam could find a fucking needle in a stack of needles. He was sure he could find one Buffy Summers in Italy. "It's supernatural," Dean finally acknowledged, "but I don't think he's gonna end up dying or anything. He just needs a hand at getting through it. If there was anything I thought you could do to help, I'd ask you to get your butt here yesterday. Just...just find this chick of his, okay?"

"You want me to play your long distance information operator, fine," he huffed. "I'll call you. Just make sure you pick up, I don't know who that guy is or what you're mixed up in, but you want me to butt out, so fine." There was nothing fine about it, it made Sam sick to know Dean wanted so bad to get away from him. He stared at the face of the phone for a long minute, hoping to hear something to contradict what he knew, then he pressed the off button and slammed his palm on top of the nightstand.

Dean shook his head with a sigh. Apparently he sucked at lying to his brother. His brother had it down to a science at lying to him, though. Well fuck him and his holier than thou attitude. Let Sam be pissed at him. He gave a snort, certain that would just drive Sam back to the demon-bitch. He ground his teeth and redialed his brother. "Tell you what Sammy. When you come clean to me about still seeing Ruby, and still using your fucking psychic crap, I'll give you the nitty gritty on Spike. But don't be pissed at me because _you're_ the one keeping secrets. Spike's just another hunter that got himself in a bind. I'm not going to abandon his ass because I've hurt your feelings. Me staying here has nothing to do with you. I _told_ you I was planning on heading to Bobby's tomorrow until this came up."

"Dean! I didn't tell you to abandon him, I asked if I could come and..." He made as if to throw the phone across the room, but just hung onto it. "Just forget it. I get it, there's is only _one_ way, and that's your way. No one else has any say in it. Gee I wonder where you get that." This time, he did hang up on Dean.

"Pot calling the kettle black, Sammy," Dean muttered and dropped the phone back in his pocket with disgust. Sam had a real bug up his butt over this and Dean didn't really get it. He hauled the ice chest back to the room and found Spike standing outside smoking a cigarette and looking anything but happy. He even looked a little...ill. He set the ice chest down and went over to Spike, taking his cigarette from him and taking a hit off of it. 

"I pissed off little bro again," Dean said, shaking his head with a sardonic smile. He glanced around and seeing there wasn't anyone around except for the occasional car on the road, he gave Spike a firm kiss on the lips. "You feeling okay?"

"Better now," he nodded, his gaze dropping to Dean's lips and making it clear that was the reason, and not because he'd downed the glass of blood. "Isn't that what little brothers are for?" Spike asked. "He'll get over it." 

Dean gave him a smile. "There you go, working on my ego again," he said slapping Spike on the shoulder. "Yeah. Sam's all jacked because he wants to come help and I told him there wasn't anything he could do. And there isn't."

Spike followed Dean to the door but stood outside to watch as he finished preparing for their fishing trip. Bringing his hand close to his mouth, he took a long drag on his cigarette then rested that hand on the door frame, slightly above his head and forced himself to hold still and appear calm, battling against the nervous energy making him want to do a lot more than pace. "I've not fished before, not with a pole anyway," he mentioned. "Thought it was a waste of time waiting for them to find your hook when you could just grab them out of the water. Now I think I see the point is to have something to waste time on."

Dean gave a shrug. "Depends on the type of fishing. What we're gonna be doing is wasting time. Not only is it November and the fish have probably moved deeper into the lake, fish usually bite best early morning or as the sun goes down. Still, it's nice out, maybe we'll get lucky and catch something. I saw a little bait shop. We'll check there, see if we can rent some poles or buy some. See what they hit on around here. Worms, mealworms, minnows. Since most of us don't have super vampire speed to just snatch them out of the water. And why would you catch them if you aren't going to eat them?" Dean asked as he loaded up the car once he'd put the things down in the ice chest.

"I'm going fishing with you and I'm not about to eat them, yeah?" He smirked at the look Dean shot him, then shrugged. "If _you_ ate everything you caught and killed, you'd be full of all sorts of ..." he waved his hand, "slime, and blue blood and scaly things, and fanged things." Sliding his hand across the back of the car, he walked to the passenger side and opened the door.

"Not like the fish are getting ready to tear your head off," Dean countered. "And eating some of the things I've killed?" Making a face Dean said, "Dude, that's just gross."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean slid behind the wheel and once Spike was settled, started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the lake. The bait shop was exactly where Dean thought and he was shocked to discover it was prime fishing season for big mouth bass and that they could be caught in the shallows. The shop owner was an old-timer and Dean got a couple tales out of him before breaching the subject of rentals and used the fact that Spike had never fished to his advantage. Pretty soon the old-timer agreed to loan them some basic rod and reels and equipment to go with it, sold them some 'dollar bills', which were six inch minnows, some worms, and even loaned them a couple lawn chairs. Dean had to suck it up and buy fishing licenses (or the owner wouldn't loan them the gear), and put down a two hundred dollar deposit on the stuff, but the owner told him he'd get all his deposit back if everything was returned in good condition.

Spike looked at Dean like he was crazy for shelling out all that money but Dean just shrugged. "You only live once." He chuckled ruefully as he headed the car for the lake and the spot the old-timer told them to set up at. "Okay, maybe you and I aren't the best examples of that saying."

A short time later, after giving Dean a little grief about everything from baiting the hooks to choosing the rods and selecting the spot they were going to sit at, Spike finally settled back and put on some shades because the sunlight glinting off the water was a bit too much for his eyes. "Didn't take you for the relax by the lake type," he admitted, tugging on his line. "Did you do this much, growing up?" He turned his head toward Dean.

"Pastor Jim, he had a pond that we'd fish in when we stayed there. Pastor Jim was a hunter, too." Dean was silent for a minute. "My growing up was mostly school and training and babysitting Sammy. Dad made us run every day, work out, target practice, do our school work, or homeschooled us when we were moving around too much. We never stayed any place real long, never made friends really. Dad left us with babysitters sometimes, and we got to do things with them sometimes. Sometimes...sometimes we did stufff like this cause it was free and could feed us. Sometimes we passed a softball. Dad loved baseball and football. I always liked frisbee, too. My growing up wasn't like most kids. I had to take care of Sam and when Dad would come home from a hunt, I'd have a whiskey poured for him, help get him cleaned up, stitch him up or bandage him, get him a sandwich, and then I'd get the weapons cleaned. He usually fell asleep pretty fast, sometimes before he ever finished his meal. It was just the way it was."

Spike heard both what Dean said and what he didn't. He didn't sound sorry for himself and the last was almost spoken defiantly, as if he expected to be judged or was used to justifying his childhood. "Grew up without a mother." Seeing it was a sore point, he continued. "It was the opposite for me. No father and a mother who coddled me and turned me into a bleedin'..." he shrugged and leaned over to the ice chest to pull out two beers. "Poetry and prancing about learning all the steps of the dance." It had been another time, but all the lessons in the world hadn't helped him fit into that world.

Dean laughed softly. "We do make a perfect pair. Both with a parent who did what they thought was best for us and got what they needed for themselves. Poetry and prancing, huh? I can't see you doing the ballroom dancing thing or whatever they called those dances. You didn't have one of those powder white wigs and little glasses on a stick, and wear all that make-up did you?"

"The make up came later. I look good in eyeliner. Billy Idol stole my look," he said seriously. "You do know good old Billy? Bloke's lost his looks now, but I haven't," he boasted. "You don't believe me?"

"Which part?" Dean asked seriously, adjusting his rod a little where he'd placed it in the sand, tightening the line and glancing away from the bobber. "And I want to hear some of this poetry. Idol steal those from you for some of his songs?" He smirked at Spike. 

"Stole just about everything else. My sneer, my hair, clothes. The poetry wasn't worth stealing, not mine anyways." He could admit it now though it used to crush his very spirit in the days when he wrote it. Then again, his alter ego had been anything but spirited. "Idol didn't steal my voice either, but it's not as bad as my poetry." Maybe it was to get his mind off other things, or maybe Dean triggered the child in him or something, but Spike found himself singing.

Hey little sister what have you done?  
Hey little sister who's the only one?  
Hey little sister who's your superman?  
Hey little sister who's the one you want?  
Hey little sister shot gun!

A grin split Dean's face. Spike sang pretty good. A helluva lot better than he could, but that wasn't really hard. "Hey, you aren't calling me a little sister are you?" He tried hard to sound annoyed but he just couldn't. Thinking back to Billy Idol, he could see the similarities between Idol and Spike. Spike did the look better he decided, though he wasn't entirely certain about the whole eyeliner thing. "You're the one who wears the makeup, Dude." 

"Those lips, those eyes... some uf us don't need make-up to fit the role," Spike teased right back, feeling a bit giddy at the way Dean was looking at him. For once, it had nothing to do with sex, what he was feeling. It was more about having earned a real smile and of enjoying being the focus of Dean's attention. "Something's biting. No, really," he nodded toward the end of the rod that Dean had stuck into the sand and then looked at the line going from it to the water.

"Just because I'm adorable doesn't make me a girl," Dean retorted. He looked at Spike blankly a moment then his gaze shot to the pole and the bobber that was beginning to dip. Dean practically dove for the pole and grabbed it just as the bobber disappeared under the water. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed as he wrestled with reeling in the fish. He had put up major fights with relatively small fish but this wasn't like anything he had dealt with before. He had to let out line, then start to reel it in, then let it back out, wearing the fish out and getting it slowly closer to shore. After a lot of curses and coaxing, he finally landed one big ass large mouth bass. He looked up at Spike proudly and gave a shout of triumph. "Hot damn! That was cool as hell!"

Spike had been offering useless advice, or so it seemed since Dean did the exact opposite of everything he'd suggested and still caught the fish. His excitement was catching and Spike found himself laughing and congratulating him, but then claiming the credit for having lured the fish in with his song. "You have heard of sirens?" he asked, ignoring the mock scathing look Dean gave him as he got the fish off the hook. "It's true. I'm part vampire and part siren. Could drive you mad with my song." If any one one of them was going to drive the other mad, Spike was very well aware it was Dean who'd drive him mad. He took a step back and dropped back down onto his chair, slowly releasing his breath as if to savor one more time Dean's fresh clean smell.

Rolling his eyes, Dean snorted at Spike's outrageous claim. To hell with hamburgers. Fresh grilled bass sounded better. He wasn't about to put the fish on a stringer and throw it back in the water, afraid the monster of a fish would escape and he had worked too hard for it. "You're the one who's mad if you think I'm that gullible. I'm gonna clean this bad boy now." Looking past Spike, he grinned. "Better grab your pole, Dude. Looks like you're getting a bite, too." 

"Bollocks." Even though Spike didn't believe him, he found himself turning and then grabbing the pole, muttering curses as he started to pull the rod back and was yelled at and told to be more gentle and smooth. Scowling, he started to reel the fish in, his scowl deepening at the laughter from Dean. "That's called cheating, trying to break my concentration. My fish is twice the size of yours." Of course, he couldn't help it if his voice implied he was talking about more than just fish.

"Bollocks," Dean repeated back to him. "I've seen your fish and it's got nothing on mine." Although Dean had already cut the head off his fish, he figured he'd better go help Spike or the line was going to break, or the pole, or Spike would rip the hook clean out of the fish's mouth. 

"Easy there," he told Spike as he approached him and gave him directions on how to land the fish. It looked to him like Spike was enjoying the challenge even if he was cursing half the time. Spike bitched and offered Dean the pole which Dean refused with an "I'd rather watch you play with your own fish." 

"Right, you need me to show you how it's done. That or you want to see me holding something wet and slippery," Spike smirked, tugging on the rod again until he remembered to keep reeling. "Move back, unless you want my fish in your face," he warned, pulling on the rod and swiveling to the side, more than ready to compare the size of his fish to Dean's until he saw it was an itty bitty thing. "Bloody hell, I must have lost its mother," he grumbled, adding, "Don't you have a fish to clean?"

"Depends which fish you're talking about," Dean said with a grin. When he saw the small fish Spike pulled out he began laughing so hard his side began to hurt. "We need to keep that and mount it for you."

"I'll give you something to mount." Glaring and waving Dean toward the fish he'd been cleaning, Spike reached for the fish flopping at the end of his line. "Day is young, hunter. I could still pull one in twice your size." He made a face as he pulled the fish off the hook and threw it back into the water. The instant he turned to get a worm for the hook, his eyes met Dean's. The mirth in the other man's eyes was simply too much. At first a low chuckle worked its way out of Spike, then he was laughing along with Dean. "Clean the bloody fish," he managed.

Dean kept chuckling as he returned to his fish and began cleaning it and scaling it. "You'd do better with a minnow than that tiny worm you have," Dean teased. Once Dean finished cleaning the fish, he rinsed his hands in the lake then went to the Impala and pulled out a trash bag. After wiping his hands clean, he put some ice in the trash bag and dropped the cleaned fish down inside it and put it in the ice chest. He caught a minnow out of the bucket and put it on his hook and tossed the line back in the water, settling down into his chair. 

"You know, these past couple days...they've been the best days I've had in a really long time." Dean looked over at Spike and smiled. "And it's all your fault. I'm getting spoiled."

The flip remark about hoping so, since prior to meeting him, Dean had spent time in vampire hell and before that, in a hell dimension, died on Spike's tongue when he realized Dean meant it. "Same. You're the best clean... or mostly clean fun I've had in a long time. It'll be hard, letting go of this," he said, then looked out at the water and cast his line, a wave of premature sadness hitting him at the thought that they'd part ways. If he beat this blood craving, maybe he'd have to hide how attached he was getting to Dean.

Letting go of it...Dean didn't really like that idea. Of course, reality would have to be dealt with eventually. Demons and angels and the Apocalypse and all that crap. He didn't really want to drag Spike into it all. But he also didn't want to let Spike go. It was selfish and he knew it but he had actually been happy these past few days. The big dark hole inside him didn't seem to be as big or as dark. He didn't know if it was friendship, kinship, the fucking hot sex, or just the 'vacation' he was taking from everything. Looking over at Spike and seeing the hint of sadness in his features, he said softly, "We don't have to. Not for awhile, at least."

Not for a while. That meant days. At most a week, at least from what Spike had heard of the conversation between the brothers and what he could read between the lines. It wasn't long enough, nowhere near long enough to get to know Dean like he wanted. Feeling like he was choking, he couldn't talk when he turned, but without thought, he took a step toward Dean and swooped in, melding his mouth to the hunter's, his lips clinging to Dean's the way he wanted to cling to him, to push off that moment they both knew was coming. Though he didn't touch Dean with his hands and could only kiss him lightly, the air of desperation in his movements and the sound of his soft, barely there sob, was unmisakeable. 

Dean was startled to have Spike, who had been sitting in his lawn chair one moment, suddenly standing over him and kissing him, and he heard Spike's sound of loss. Slowly Dean stood up but never let his lips leave Spike's. He pulled Spike into a tight embrace and deepened their kiss until he finally had to break off to take a breath. He ran his hand along the back of Spike's head, over his bleach-blond hair. "Big bad-ass vampire falls in love with the empty shell of a hunter. A vampire that's more alive than his living counterpart. The world loves irony."

Swallowing hard, he held Spike tightly. "I'm not ready to say I love you. That doesn't mean I won't be at some point. That doesn't mean I will, either. I'm still pretty fucked in the head, pretty damned...scared. But I care about you. I'm just not sure how yet. I tried to figure it out last night. That's part of why I went off to think and look at the stars." Pulling back he placed his hands on either side of Spike's face. "I don't want to use you. Sex with you is fucking awesome, but I want to make sure when we're doing it, that we're on the same page, that I'm there with you, y'know? I don't want to be there because I need to be, but because I want to be. Like the other night. That was want." He caressed the side of Spike's face. "How the fuck do you get me all emo and chick-flick?" he asked, shaking his head just before he began to kiss Spike again.

Spike didn't want to feel so tangled up on the inside. He didn't want to be used, but he knew if this man wanted to use him, if he needed to use him, in the end he would let him, let him do whatever he wanted, take whatever he needed. He wanted to deny being in love, to tell Dean that he was flattering himself if he believed that, to protect his own heart, to prevent himself from being love's bitch one more time. Yet he couldn't. The truth was the truth, whether he asked for it or wanted it or not.

What he couldn't answer in words, he answered with his kisses. Closing one arm around Dean, he leaned closer and made love to his mouth, exploring every inch of it, licking and stroking and mapping it out as if he was committing it to memory, the way Dean felt and tasted. He wanted this to last, to go on forever, but thoughts of Dean's taste were soon eclipsed by thoughts of the taste of Dean's blood, the sound of it rushing through his veins, singing to him, the sound of his heart pumping blood through his system. The craving for blood slammed into him with unexpected force. Dropping the rod, he suddenly gripped Dean with both hands, his mouth moving to the side of his throat, his teeth pressing over his sensitive flesh, a snarl breaking from him as he fought against the instinct, the need to turn Dean into his prey, to force him to give up what he needed.

Dean felt the need in the kiss, felt Spike's desperation at the thought of being left behind. It made his heart ache that he didn't have answers for the man. Then Spike changed. His grip turned bruising and those searing lips shifted to his neck. He felt Spike's teeth against the wound that was almost healed. If that didn't set his nerves on edge the snarl clinched it. "Spike, calm down. You don't need the blood. You don't. Let me go," he tried to soothe as he shifted his footing, ready to try to break the vampire's hold.

Spike's world narrowed down to that one need, but somehow, some way, he heard Dean's voice as if it was coming to him from a distance. He shoved Dean hard, away from him and took a few steps back. Staring wildly at Dean, he felt his fangs elongate and snarled again. "Run."

Outrun a vampire. Yeah. Right. And lose sight of Spike? Maybe have Spike take out some innocent? One thing Dean knew was that Spike wanted him, or he hoped Spike did. Wanted him bad enough to hang around and hopefully, calm down. It was a risk. A big ass risk, but it was the best option he could come up with at the moment. 

As Dean ran, he stripped off his couple of spare shirts, leaving just one on as he dove into the lake. Spike couldn't swim and the bank fell away to depth quickly. He hoped the lessons he'd given Spike hadn't been good enough that Spike could swim out to him or he was fucked. He swam far enough out that he didn't think Spike could make the jump to reach him. He turned and looked back to the bank and began treading water.

Wrong direction. Spike had wanted Dean to drive away, to leave him alone, to allow him a chance to fight off the need. Instead, Dean was in the water, head bobbing up and down, staring at him, making him want... need. He stalked his way to the edge of the water, paralleling Dean's position, eyes laser focused on him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides and his entire body was tense, flooded by blood lust held back only by a thin string of control and the fact that there was water between them. Love. Hate. Lust. Want. All of it was directed at the man in the water and it was tearing Spike up on the inside.

Dean watched Spike pace, knowing, feeling, that Spike was watching him like some sort of feral beast. Success at one level. Spike wasn't going hunting for an innocent. He prayed some innocent or good samaritan didn't come wandering by because he wasn't sure he could swim to shore fast enough to save them from Spike. How long could he tread water? His dad had made him tread water for hours in full gear and boots just like in the military, so he wasn't terribly concerned, but his boots were heavy and hard to swim in. He would have greater speed and mobility without them. If Spike couldn't get himself under control, Dean didn't really like his options. There were boaters and he could swim out, get to one, and hopefully get to shore without Spike tracking him. Then he just had to get some deadman's blood and a throwing knife. Yeah. Piece of cake. He took a breath and let himself go underwater, untieing his boots and pulling them off, his socks coming off right along with them. He resurfaced and stared back toward shore, toward the vampire. 

"Spike, you gotta calm down. Take deep breaths or whatever the hell vamps do. Maybe we can ease you off this blood lust. You want me? You got me. But not so long as you're ready to bite me, drain me, turn me, whatever. Get a hold of yourself. Come back to me Spike. Please. Come back to me. Be the man, not the vampire." 

A variety of expressions crossed Spike's features as he tried to concentrate on Dean's words, tried to use them to ground him. He heard a car roar by behind him, turned his head and looked as it parked some distance away and people got out and went to the trunk. Blood. Human blood pulsing into his mouth. He could have that, all he had to do was walk away. Who cared if it was the hunter's blood he really craved above all else. A substitute would hold him just as well. He licked his lips and slowly turned back, a haunted look entering his eyes. He shouldn't care what Dean would think of him. He was a bloody vampire, of course he would feed on blood.

Dean practically groaned. God dammit! If Spike went after them, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd have to kill Spike and he didn't want that. He desperately didn't want that. He wanted Spike...to stay with him. His eyes widened just a little at that realization. He wasn't ready to give Spike up. Not now, maybe not ever. Who knew what would happened when he ended his vacation from the world. It might not work out between them, but right now, in this instant, he didn't want to lose this man who had become so very important to him.

"Spike, don't think about them. Stay with me. You gotta stay with me. Don't leave me. Don't make me go on alone. You saved me. Let me save you. But you gotta stay here, with me." Dean swam a few strokes closer to shore. He was still well out of Spike's reach, but he hoped moving a little closer would keep Spike there rather than going after the innocents in the distance.

"Liar. I know what you're doing... I know," Spike snarled at the man he wanted beyond words. The man he wanted to reject so he could get what he needed. All he had to do was ignore him and listen to all the other voices screaming inside his head, telling him there was fresh sweet blood for the taking, that he could stop, that he didn't have to drain them, that maybe they'd live, that it didn't matter. He took a step back, his head cocking to one side as Dean moved even closer to him. His gaze dropped to Dean's throat, but he managed to drag it back up to his eyes. Eyes that demanded something from him, something that hurt, something he couldn't give.

Indecision warred inside him. "Please. Please," Spike whimpered, taking another step back. "Please." He didn't need permission. Fucking hell, he should just take.

"I'm not lying Spike! I was lying to myself," Dean admitted reluctantly. "When I go back to my brother, ready to face the damned apocalypse again, I...I want you to come with me. But you gotta beat this dammit. We'll get you blood. From the blood bank, from some willing donors, from me. Something. But you have to control yourself. You've gone all these years keeping it under control. Remember that? You don't want to kill again, do you? You don't want to disappoint me, or the Slayer. She has faith in you. I have faith in you. Please, Spike. Have faith in yourself. Have faith in me to get you through this."

He'd say anything, wouldn't he? Would he? Spike's mind was a hot mess of confusion but his eyes clung to Dean's, saw a promise within them. He'd seen the promise in the Slayer's eyes, but it hadn't been real either. Buffy's face was superimposed over Dean's. He blinked, clearing his vision. Dean was still there, telling him, begging him, wanting him to do things his way. Why should he? Why should he impress a hunter who would abandon him in the end, just as everyone else he ever loved had? Why?

Pain seared his insides as he struggled to find a reason, any reason. Minutes slipped by. He didn't know how much time passed, but eventually the only answer that came to him was that promise in those jade eyes. Truth or lies, it was there and it tugged at him harder than the blood lust, fought for him harder than the blood lust. Drawing a sudden deep breath, Spike dropped down onto the sand, drew his knees into his chest and closed his arms around them, rocking a little as he stared at Dean, the yearning in his own eyes dying down a little at a time until calmness eventually enveloped him. 

Dean watched, treading water, giving encouraging words, praying Spike could beat this. The water was colder than he had expected and he knew he was going to have to get out soon or risk hypothermia. When he saw Spike finally sink down on the bank, Dean waited longer, still talking, still soothing. Finally he began to swim slowly to shore, watching Spike closely, but with hope in his eyes that Spike had gotten it under control. He paused about twenty feet out, knowing Spike could easily leap that far if he wanted. "You going to be okay if I come out? You feeling better? Cause I am freezing my ass off out here." 

It took a moment for Spike to understand. He gave a sharp nod and watched until Dean started to walk out of the water. Pulling his gaze away, he looked down at the sand, running his fingers over it, concentrating on the way the warm grains felt sifting through his fingers. The closer Dean got, the more shame he felt, at losing control, at what the hunter had seen, of what he must be thinking of him. 

He got up suddenly, avoiding Dean's gaze and heading for the chairs. Assuming they were done, that he'd ruined the day, he started to pack up, reining his emotions in as tightly as he could. 

"You did good," Dean told him. "I know it's gotta be hard, but you did it, you got through it. Hopefully, it'll get easier." Dean wasn't sure if he should approach Spike or not, unsure if him getting closer would make it harder on the vampire and bring the bloodlust back on. Seeing Spike starting to pick up he told him, "We can stay if you want. It's still a nice day. And you did say you were gonna catch a bigger fish than me." Dean paused and stared at Spike even though Spike wouldn't look at him. "I meant what I said," he added softly. "I-I'm gonna change into some dry clothes. If you wanna stay, get our poles set back up. If you wanna go back to the motel, we can do that too. There's always the carnival or we can find a park or a lookout or something to enjoy the sunshine." 

"You don't have to pretend you can do that, enjoy anything after... after... bloody hell." Spike tossed his beer bottle into the public trashcan a short ways away. "It's not a curse to have your soul taken away. The curse is to have one and be a vampire. Just figured that out," he said, swearing. "Get your clothes on so I'm not responsible for freezing you to death. Then you can drive me to your ... your vegetarian vampire friends." He didn't want to go, wasn't even sure he'd stay with them. But he couldn't burden Dean like this, and he couldn't even look at the man for fear of what he'd find in his eyes, despite all the reassurances.

Dean picked up his couple shirts he pulled off and walked to the car. "Spike, I've been to Hell and back, and in that vampire hell-house. You think a twenty or thirty minute freak-out on your part is gonna make me throw in the towel? Get your head out of your ass. I'm sure getting off human blood the first time wasn't easy," he said as he pulled off his soaking wet shirt and pulled a towel out of the trunk, drying his hair and his chest. "You can't tell me you didn't about fall off the wagon more than a couple times."

After pulling on a dry shirt he looked around. No one could see him where he was standing so he quickly dropped his pants, barely dried himself, and slipped into a fresh pair of underwear and jeans. Since his boots were on the bottom of the lake bed, he slipped into some socks and his running shoes. Dean walked over to Spike's side and forced Spike to turn and face him. He lifted Spike's bowed head with a couple fingers under his chin. "Look at me. It's okay, what happened. Let's give this a few more days. If you haven't made any progress by the end of the week, we'll decide what to do then."

After pulling Spike into an embrace, he held him for a moment, then released him. Spike had just gotten himself under control and Dean didn't want to tease him with his throat so close to Spike's mouth. He pressed a kiss to Spike's temple. "It's gonna be okay."

"Maybe," Spike agreed thickly, glad to be held even if it took effort on his part to block out Dean's scent. "I want to fish. I want to catch a big one," he nodded, swallowing and reluctantly pulling out of Dean's embrace. "Also, I want you to pretend I'm a plate of funnel cake, and you can't have me," he said, bending over to pick up his rod. "Misery loves company, yeah?" Turning, he managed to flash a grin. 

Dean smacked him hard on the ass. "I get bitchy when I don't get my dessert. So I'll cut you some slack if you get bitchy, too, Mr. Funnel Cake. Let's fish."

Spike resisted the urge to tackle him and kiss the breath out of him. "That makes you Mr. Black Pudding. Let's fish." He pulled his rod back and cast his line, vowing to maintain control, and to be his charming self, even if it killed him.

"Black Pudding?" Dean asked. "Nevermind. Don't wanna know," Dean said as he cast his line and settled back into the lawn chair, lifting his face up toward the sun, exhaling a relieved, contented sigh.

* * *

The rest of the day had passed without incident. At first, it had been a little awkward between them, and the jokes a bit forced, but later they'd fallen into their normal pattern. There was no denying the fact that they had fun in each other's company, whether they were being wild or sitting around. When they'd gotten back, Dean had half forced and half cajoled him into drinking more cow's blood. Spike had tried, he really had, but he hadn't been able to drink more than a quarter cup.

Then he'd slept for a few hours, having been tired out by being in the sun. He might be able to walk in daylight, but it did drain him of energy. That didn't mean he'd slept well. He'd been plagued by dreams and awakened several times, sure that Dean had left him, or that he'd drained Dean of blood, or maybe worse, that he'd killed the hunter's brother. 

Now it was early evening and he was alone, standing on the small balcony, smoking and looking out into the forest behind the motel. He guessed he'd awakened before Dean thought he would, because he knew Dean was determined to watch him every moment that he was awake. Hearing the door, he turned and through the sliding glass door, he saw Dean walk in with some packages and a duffel bag in hand. "I haven't flown the coop, I'm right here," he announced, noticing the way Dean's eyes had gone first to the bed, then to the only other room, the bathroom. 

Dean heard Spike's voice and his gaze went to the back door. With the light on inside, it was hard to see out on the balcony. He set the packages on the bed and walked over to the sliding door. "I didn't figure you had. Took me longer to get back than I counted on, though. I got you some presents." Dean grinned at Spike and waved him in. "C'mon finish your smoke and get in here." His eyes were as bright as a kid's on Christmas morning.

"Presents for me?" It wasn't what the vampire expected. Immediately putting the cigarette out in the ash tray and blowing out a last puff, he walked inside and searched Dean's face. "It's not something that can blow up on me, is it? You've got that look on your face," he added with mock suspicion, doing his best not to look too eager to see what the hunter had brought him. 

"Yeah, I got you one of those cigars that'll blow up when you've smoked about half of it. Oh, and a can of peanuts that when you open it, a snake jumps out at you." Dean frowned. "Hey! You never told me I had to tell the truth around you! That'll ruin all my cool surpises."

Dean laughed at the look on Spike's face and tossed him the first package wrapped in newspaper. He didn't see the sense of buying decorative paper that someone was just going to rip off, wad up and throw away anyhow when he could find a newspaper for free. "Open this first."

Spike squeezed it and shook it but had no clue what was inside. "Didn't take you for a 'save the planet' sort," he commented as he tore the thick layers of newspaper open and found the watch. Surprised, he took a step back, his eyes moving from the watch, to Dean's face, and back to the watch which he pulled completely free. It had a black leather strap and was silver. What was interesting was the subtle etching on the face of the watch, behind the glass. "The sun and the moon..." It felt like something kicked him in the stomach, only in a good way, if there was one. Feeling the weight of Dean's gaze, Spike cleared his throat. "I've never received anything, any present better than this one. I'd kiss you if it weren't for... Thank you. I don't know why you did this, and I don't deserve it, but thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion as he started to put it onto his wrist. 

Spike's response was better than he had even hoped. Spike hadn't gotten a watch yet since hell-house and when Dean had seen it just seemed to him Spike might like it. He didn't really expect Spike to get all choked up over it though. "It screamed your name when I saw it. Made quite a ruckus in the store, this watch screaming 'buy me for Spike!' so you know, to shut it up, I had to. And it's waterproof down to 75 meters," Dean said with a solemn nod. "Since we seem to end up around water so much and all. And whattaya mean you don't deserve it? Why not? When we get this whole blood lust thing handled, you can thank me good and proper," he added giving Spike's body a once over a quirk of his eyebrow. He waited for Spike to finish putting on the watch then handed him another package. "This is next." 

"I'll thank you, I'll be thanking you all night, maybe for a full week of nights and days," he muttered under his breath, wishing the unlikely. "It's not even my birthday, hunter," he said, taking the second package. This time he tore into it and seeing a terrible self taken picture of Dean on the face of the cell phone, he laughed. "Is this so you won't lose track of me?" he asked, pressing some of the buttons and working the functions. "In case... I mean for when you meet up with your people?" No, he wasn't going to think about that. "I'd like that, to hear your voice now and again." Feeling a bit self conscious, he gruffly demanded Dean's phone number to input.

It wasn't for when Spike and he seperated, it was for now, if Spike got all bloodlusty and left, Dean had turned on the app which would track Spike's location. He really hoped Spike didn't realize he could do that with the phone. "Dude, I already put my number in there. Speed dial one, of course. And your number is in mine. You can surf the internet and everything with it. I upgraded my phone too." Pulling out his phone he showed he had an identical one to Spike's. Before Spike had a chance to react, he took a picture of him and showed it to Spike, laughing. "It's as bad as mine. Okay, one more present for you. I dunno if you'll like this, but I thought maybe you would."

"Hold on, let me get a look," he said, grabbing at Dean's phone and looking at the picture. "It's not that bad. I haven't looked better in a picture in, well, forever," he mused, and almost reluctantly gave the phone back. "And what have we here?"

Meeting Dean's gaze, Spike took the last gift which was in a significantly smaller package. The instant he opened it, he dropped the silver cross to the ground, cursing as he pulled his hand away and expected the searing pain that came from touching a cross. There was nothing. No pain. Only silence between them.

Dean leaned over and picked it up. Taking Spike's hand he laid it in his palm and folded his fingers around it. "You don't have to be afraid of it any more. If you don't like it, the chain'll look good on you and you can toss the cross. I just thought...I dunno, that you might like the reminder."

Sure he had in part gotten the other presents to help distract Spike from the fact he had gotten him the phone and the reason for it, and really he was just going to get Spike a chain, but at the second hand store where he picked up his 'new' boots, he had seen both the watch and this necklace. If Spike was religious, or had been, it would be good for Spike. If he he hadn't been or wasn't, it still held signifgance that probably only he and Spike would really understand.

Feeling foolish at the automatic reaction, Spike nodded. "I like it. It's a good reminder, I'll wear it," he said. "It'll help with the disguise the next time I walk into a church. Alter boys and nuns have the best blood." Spike lightly smacked the back of the hand that held the cross against Dean's stomach. "Don't get your knickers into a twist, it was a joke. And thank you, for all this." His gaze dropped down to the chain and he pulled it over his hand, letting it drop down onto his chest. 

After giving Spike a mock glare, he beamed. "You're welcome. Glad you like them. I got you something else, too." He turned to the duffel and pulled out paper bags. Opening them up he began to sit labeled coffee cups on the night stand between the beds. "I went around and got some different types of blood. I didn't know if maybe something would taste better. I got deer, a different type of cow, bull, pig, chicken, turkey, and I even got a small sample of cat and dog blood from the vet. Maybe one of them will work for you," Dean said hopefully.

Spike's stomach turned. "Not now," he said sharply. "Put it away. Please," letting out a sigh, he walked to the sliding glass doors an stood there, breathing in the fresh air. "Did you eat? Your dinner?" he wanted to change the topic before it ruined his mood. Looking down, he played with the phone, learning its features and making sure to ignore the cups Dean had set out, not that he could avoid the scent of blood coming from them.

"Okay." Dean hid his disappointment. If none of it smelled good, what the hell were they going to do? Apparently the type of vamp Spike had been before didn't have a lick of trouble with drinking blood that wasn't human. Well, maybe they did, but not like the type of vamp Spike was now. He would make Spike at least try the different types. He was going to have to call Lenore and see what she had to say, if Lenore would talk to him, if her number hadn't changed. He'd snaked it out of Sam's phone a long time ago and put it in his own. It never hurt to have a supernatural beast--person--owe you one. 

He went to Spike's ice chest with the cow's blood still in it and nestled the cups down inside, putting a little more ice in the cooler, then firmly replaced the blood. He walked back over to Spike and pulled the door wide to let in the fresh air. "Yeah, I ate. Had pizza with extra garlic," he teased. "If you want, you can have a cigarette in the room, if it'll help. I know vamps have really good noses and you looked kinda pale, er, paler, when I pulled out the cups. Do what you have to." Touching the cross on Spike's chest, he asked quietly, "Guess it's a bad idea to ask if I can kiss you, huh?"

That cut through the nausea like nothing else could. Spike's gaze darted to Dean's as he considered the question, knowing he wanted it too. He closed his hand around Dean's wrist and pulled his hand up to his mouth. Eyes closed, he kissed his palm, using his lips to pinch his flesh as he practically made love to the small area. Gently, he bit the skin between Dean's thumb and index finger, listening to the rush of the hunter's blood, swallowing as he moved his mouth down over the pulse point of his wrist. His lips throbbed, ached with need, but it wasn't blood lust.

Dean had to bite back his moan, and his cock began springing to attention. How did Spike set him on fire like this? He wanted those lips on his own, and other more interesting places. It was just the good old Winchester curse he reminded himself. Find something important to you only to have it taken away, unreachable and untouchable.

Putting his own palm in the middle of Dean's chest, Spike pushed him up against the wall and leaned in, hovering right over the hunter's mouth. "I like a bad idea every now and again," he whispered, brushing his lips over Dean's. "Go on then. Kiss me. And if you say that's a city in Florida, I will have your arse on a platter."

"It's pronounced ke-seem-y," Dean said almost automatically and then groaned. "Oh, God, I'm turning into my brother."

Knowing this was probably a bad idea but unable to stop himself, he ran his hands along Spike's sides as he leaned forward the small distance he needed to in order to brush his lips over Spike's. He licked along the seam of Spike's lips, pushing the tip of his tongue in just barely past Spike's lips. When Spike's tongue met his, he immediately sucked it into his mouth, sucking on it and stroking it with his tongue as he pressed his lips more firmly against the vampire's.

It was instantaneous, the heat that flared between them. Spike kept one hand on the hunter's chest, the other flat against the wall next to his shoulder, ready to push away at the first hint that he was burning with a need for something other than this man's body and soul. Moaning, he moved his mouth back and forth, slanting it across Dean's first one way then the other. His tongue danced and tangled with Dean's, playing with him, provoking him, but carefully. 

Spike's hand holding him firmly against the wall frustrated Dean. He had no leverage to push away from the wall to get closer to the man who made his blood burn with desire. He didn't suppose leverage would matter though, not with Spike's vampiric strength. If he couldn't press his body against Spike's he could press his lips. Putting one hand behind Spike's head, cupping the back of it, his kissing of Spike grew in aggresiveness. His other free hand drifted down from Spike's side to toy with the waistband on Spike's pants, running his fingers between skin and denim.

He should have known Dean would find a way to raise the stakes, to take this to a higher level. His aggressive movements registered loudly, waking his predators instincts. As their tongues warred, Spike's mind was plagued with images of tearing Dean's clothes off his body and taking him against the wall, or driving him to the verge, seeing how far he could drive this man and what would happen when he then allowed him to have his way. He'd make a great vampire, of that Spike was sure.

His body thrummed with need, his cock surged and pressed painfully against his zipper as Dean teased and touched him, his fingers dipping below the waistband of his jeans and threatening to open them up. Fuck. He tore his mouth away and looked wildly into Dean's eyes. "We have to stop."

Dean groaned when he heard Spike's words. Dammit! He wanted Spike. He wanted to make love to him, to have Spike make love to him, it didn't fucking matter. The thought of running his hands over bare skin and of kissing him more and more deeply, it was agony to know he couldn't. And probably even worse for Spike.

Pulling his hands away he held them up as if surrending. "Sorry. Guess I wanted more than a kiss," Dean said, looking into Spike's blue eyes with desire. He was silent a moment, watching the war inside the vampire in front of him. This was his fault. He needed to help Spike calm down. "Let's turn on the TV, have a beer, and I'll behave while you deal with...you know. That be good?" he asked, telling his cock to just calm the fuck back down, that it wasn't going to get to come out and play.

"Shshsh," he stroked Dean's face. "It's not blood lust. I just want to be sure I don't... I had a nightmare and this is how it started." He knew Dean would understand that only too well. "Telly will be a poor substitute for what I want. Want you, want you so bad hunter," he whispered huskily, his lips burning for another kiss.

"Yeah," Dean said slowly. "I get it. If you do go bloodlusty, like at the lake, we're both fucked and not in a good way." He placed his hand alongside Spike's face. "Let's prepare, like the Boy Scouts or something. I'll get out a knife, dip it in deadman's blood, put it on the nightstand." He grinned then. "And the lube too. If you start to go bloodnuts, then you just have to hold back long enough I can cut you with the knife. Think you can do that? You trust me enough to be willing to do that?" He ran his thumb over Spike's lips. "Cause I really don't want to stop here."

"I trust you." Leaning in, he stole a kiss and pulled back. "It's me I don't... can't trust. You might never get a chance at the knife." He stepped back before he could change his mind and straightened his clothes. "You're first on my list. As soon as this thing is sorted out, you're the first thing I'm going to do." He glanced up. "No pun intended, yeah?"

Dean welcomed the kiss, but was disappointed it was so short. "You're saying this to the guy who raped you and carved you up all while he was pretty much still asleep. I get it. And I damned well better be first, and the only one on your list. Got it vamp?" he said, poking Spike in the shoulder. "So what do you want to do? Stay in? Go out? Try not to puke as you sample some of the blood I brought back? They've got some on demand movies we could check out or see if there's anything halfway decent on." He looked at Spike, giving Spike the options. Spike would know best what he felt safe doing and what he didn't. "Carnival is still going on, too."

When the hunger had hit him last night, it hadn't helped to have so many people packed together with the sound of their blood rushing around and tempting him. "Stay in and watch some telly. Sample your... beer," he said walking across the room to Dean's cooler and grabbing a couple of bottles from it. "I'd like to hear about how it is you ended up in Hell, if you're up to talking about it."

He said it casually, like the answer didn't matter, and put the beers down on the nightstand. Grabbing the remote, he started to scroll through.

Dean popped the cap on the beer and took a long swig of it. "Told you the last bargain I made sucked," he finally said. He turned his head sharply when he recognized one of the voices on TV and focused on it. He hadn't seen this episode of Dr. Sexy. He almost told Spike to stop, but then felt kind of embarassed by it. Just like he didn't like to admit he watched Oprah sometimes and the soap, Passions, he didn't want Spike to know he enjoyed this show either. None of them really fit his bad-ass image that he liked to maintain. 

Flipping the channels all the way around, Spike found himself back on Dr. Sexy and in a scene where the doctor was in a steamy kiss that very much reminded him of how he'd pushed Dean up against the wall. "I think they're stealing our soundtrack," he said, his gaze glued to the screen.

Dean stared at the screen and blurted out, "What the hell's he doing with Melinda? Oh, Dude, so wrong, she's such a skank!"

"Nothing wrong with skanks, they obviously know how to kiss. That other one he's interested in, what's her name.... she only wants him because he's a doctor. Have you seen how she's always eying the lab tech. They're doing it in the lab, I'm sure of it. Right over all the patient files and... bloody hell," he cursed when there was a commercial interruption. Finding Dean's eyes on him, he shrugged. "I watch when nothing else is on."

"Cindy," Dean supplied for Spike. "Well, since nothing else seems to be on, you might as well leave it there, since you watch it," Dean said, trying to sound like he was making a sacrifice. He got up and went over to his duffel and pulled out a dagger, whet stone, honing oil and a cloth. He might as well do something productive during the commercials at any rate. And since Spike wanted to know all about the crossroad's demon and Hell. He'd given him a brief run down previously, but he had a feeling Spike wanted more than the thirty second abridged version.

"Hmm. Right, since I watch it." Spike made no further comment since he did want to watch and he didn't want to tempt Dean to change his mind and demand another channel. Settling more comfortably against the pillows at his back, he lifted the the beer bottle and took a drink. "This angel of yours, does she have wings?" 

"He. Castiel. And yeah and no. He looks like an accountant or something, suit, tie, trenchcoat. In the lightning, you can see his shadow wings. I've seen 'em once or twice. Big mothers. I've waved my hand over his back when he wasn't looking and I couldn't feel a damned thing, but he asked what I was doing so maybe he could feel it. Dunno. He's there, then he's gone, so it's not like you see him spread his wings and take flight. Bastards move fast when they want to." Dean took another drink of his beer, settling back against the headboard, then put some honing oil on his whet stone and began dragging the blade in slow, even, steady strokes across the stone.

"How do you know he's an angel? I could say I'm an angel." He pondered that for a moment, then looked back at Dean. The blade in his hand glinted and drew his attention for a fraction of a second. "And I don't look much like an accountant." 

"Believe me, he's an angel. It's his handprint on my shoulder." Intermittently between dialog during the show, Dean told Spike everything that happened. He started with the blasted out windows at the store when he first got out of his coffin, the burned out eyes of Pamela the pyschic, all the runes and sigils when they summoned Cas, the fingers to Bobby's forehead that made Bobby drop like a rock, and ended with the demon blade in Castiel's shoulder that the man shrugged off.

Spike had wondered about the scar that looked just like a hand print and now that he knew, he didn't really like the idea that it was an actual hand print, this Castiel character's mark on Dean. It was a good thing Dean distracted him with other things, his history told in the commercials, and sometimes over the show when Spike lowered the volume. Dean talked a little more about Sam cavorting with a demon. Even though he toned it down a bit, most likely because Dean himself was 'cavorting' with a vampire, Spike could see how much it bothered the hunter and that this could create a big rift between brothers who'd been taught to protect each other over everything else. 

"You might be right about Ruby." He wasn't going to argue what he didn't know. "But sometimes there is a point in our lives where we need something that's not good for us. Like a phase, a rite of passage. And then we wake up, and it's another day and that phase is over, together with the reason we needed it in the first place." He raised his hand when Dean would have argued. "What is the _worst_ thing that could happen to you? Losing Sam? You can't tell me it wouldn't send you spiraling, that you wouldn't ally yourself with anyone or anything that could bring him back, or avenge him. He was in that boat. Cut him some slack, even if he is an arsehole," he added, knowing Dean's first instinct would be to protect his brother. 

"I didn't eat for I dunno, a couple days, while Sam was lying on the bed, gray and breathless," Dean said softly. "I talked to him, I stared at him, knowing I'd failed him, failed my dad. I wasn't fast enough. I saw the lethal blow but I was too far away. It was my voice calling out for him that distracted him, that let that bastard get the drop on him. I held him and told him it would be okay, all the while feeling his blood drain between my fingers, feeling the life leave him." Dean's voice grew hard and brittle. "I wouldn't fail him. I couldn't. It was my job to protect him, to save him. That's when I went to the crossroads and made the deal that brought Sammy back from the dead and gave me one year to live before going to Hell for all eternity." Dean's strokes of the knife across the stone grew harder, faster. 

"Ruby has her own agenda, Spike, and she's taking Sam down the primrose path straight to Hell. Sam's lost sight of good or evil, all he knows is vengeance and hate and taking down that demon-bitch Lilith!" Dean's voice had risen in volume, anger etched in his face, remembering Lilith torturing him and wanting to see her dead as well, but not at the cost of his brother's humanity. Suddenly the knife slipped off the stone and sliced open the meat of Dean's thumb. "Sonuvabitch!" Dean said, dropping the stone and watching the crimson flow from the one inch wound as he grabbed for the cleaning cloth covered with splotches of honing oil.

Just like that, time stood still. The world dropped away and Spike's world narrowed. All of his senses focused on one thing and one thing alone, the scarlet liquid welling on Dean's thumb and the droplet that fell onto the white sheet. The scent of blood slammed into Spike full force, igniting a vicious thirst that only one thing would quench, and he would have it now.

As if in slow motion, their eyes met. There wasn't a hint of mercy in Spike's as he took measure of his prey, knowing full well his prey was doing the same. An almost cruel smile twisted his lips as his gaze locked onto the pulse at the side of Dean's throat and he started to rise.


	8. Chapter 8

Sensing the intensity of Spike's attention, Dean looked up and what he saw on Spike's face sent an icy finger down his spine. Spike was lost to the bloodlust and Dean knew Spike would most likely kill him. His hand dove into the pocket where he kept his flask of holy water. He had dumped the water and filled it with deadman's blood as soon as he had acquired it. Long honed instincts made him react instantly, but he knew trying to dodge or move would only make Spike attack faster and inhibit what Dean had to do and he only had one shot. As he pulled out the flask he spun the lid off with practiced ease, spilling its contents even as he drew it out, spilling the dark crimson onto the knife he held, then flicking some of the remaining liquid up to spray across his throat.

In one fluid motion, Spike was on Dean's bed, straddling the hunter's thighs, seconds away from satisfying his frenzied need for the man's life blood. He slapped his hand over Dean's forehead and shoved him back against the headboard, forcing his head to one side so that Spike had access to the scarlet marked flesh of his throat. The blade in the hunter's hand didn't concern him, he was going to have what he needed and he wasn't about to waste time fighting over something that would deliver little pain.   
His fangs exploded into his mouth. He swooped down open-mouthed and ready to satisfy the painful cravings of every screaming cell in his body.

Dammit Spike was fast, was about the only thing Dean had time to think as he found himself pinned to the bed with the vampire's weight on him. The back of his skull struck the headboard painfully as Spike pushed him back and forced him to expose his throat. Spike began to lean in, ready to sink his teeth into Dean's flesh when Dean buried the blood-soaked knife just under Spike's ribs. He knew it would take two or three seconds for the blood to take affect. He gasped as he felt Spike's teeth sink into his flesh. 

"Spike, stop!" Dean begged, more afraid Spike would simply rip open his throat and then it wouldn't matter if the poison kicked in or not. Dean would quickly bleed out from his jugular. 

There's no stopping this, hunter The predator within Spike silently answered, refusing to be dominated by Spike's soul or feelings on the matter. The vampire had had no warning and the scent and sight of Dean's blood had hit him like a punch to the nose, blinding him for the time it took the predator to assert its supremacy. 

The pain lancing his side had him snarling with anger and biting down harder when all of a sudden every muscle in his body refused his command. What the... He tried to bite deeper, to drink the sweet, sweet liquid welling into his mouth, to lift his head, to push up... but his body wasn't his own anymore and he could do none of that. A howl of anger and fear broke from him. "I will make you regret this. I will have you begging for death. Are you listening to me, hunter? You'll die, and I will enjoy it." 

Dean pushed Spike off of him, slapping a hand over the initial bite Spike had gotten in. "Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah," he muttered, but the dark empty hole inside him re-opened with a vengeance. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to get Spike through this. Failure. The one thing, the only thing, he seemed to excel at. After washing the bite, he bandaged it, thankful Spike hadn't nailed his jugular. He tended to the cut on his hand that had started this mess, then stood in the bathroom doorway, looking at the immobile Spike spewing curses at him from the bed. 

Glumly Dean wondered if ropes would even be able to hold Spike. He walked out to his car and got the rope anyhow. While the man still cursed him, he pulled off Spike's shirt. Purple-black lines spidered out from the knife wound. Reluctantly he poured a little more deadman's blood into the wound. Spike should be weak for a good hour, but he couldn't risk it and the extra measure of poison should keep Spike immobile long enough to get him securely tied up.

Dean examined the bed and worked the ropes under the bedsprings and mattress, padding around it so Spike couldn't saw the ropes against the frame. Once he was satisfied he pulled one of Spike's arms up and stretched it out, securing the rope around Spike's wrist. Rolling Spike onto his side, he put a pillow down and rolled Spike back on top, elevating his head and shoulders a little, then he tied Spike's other arm. Looking at Spike, memories of Hell resurfaced, slapping him in the face. He shoved them back with a growl and tied Spike's legs so he was spread eagle and would have no leverage to try and break free. By the time he was done he was sweating and trembling. So much like Hell, having Spike tied like this, ready for Dean to start to work on him, to carve his flesh and make him scream. Moving up beside the bed he picked up his knife from where it lay on the sheets, still covered in blood. 

Looking up at Dean standing over him with the knife in his hand, Spike understood full well that what he saw in the hunter's eyes was bloodlust as pure as his own. Only difference was that the hunter was fighting it. "Got me where you want me now, don't you? All tied and ready to be sliced and diced. You want to put your hands inside me, feel my blood cover them... you were waiting for the chance, weren't you? You set this up, call it whatever you want, but you set this up."

...the man screamed and Dean drew the knife down his sternum, cutting the flesh to the bone. He then carefully ran the knife along each rib, on top of the rib, so he was just cutting skin and not deeply into the man. He began slicing off the long strands of flesh and tossing them to the hellhounds, savoring their growls and snapping jaws as much as he savored the man's screams. Next he carefully cut down the abdomen, pulling the flesh aside to expose the organs. He grabbed the man's liver and cut it out a piece at a time, tossing the brown pieces of meat to the hounds. "You don't really need that, not here," Dean crooned. He reached inside the man and began pulling out his intestines. "It's amazing how much intestine is inside a body," he said as he piled it on the man's chest, his hands slick with blood and it felt so damned good...

Dean dropped the knife on the floor and backed away until he felt his back hit the TV that was still on. Violently he shook his head. "No. No!" he yelled at Spike, trying to deny the desire inside him to run that knife over Spike's flesh and hear him scream.

Spike's gaze followed the knife as it fell out of sight, then lifted to Dean's face now drained of blood. "You want my blood, as much as I want yours. Don't deny it. Cut your arm, feed me, then you can slice me up any way you like. I'll scream for you, I'll make you feel again... it'll be perfect... for both of us, come on, do it... cut us, both of us." The pangs of hunger kept Spike talking, kept him taunting, hoping that words would get him what he needed, when his own body wouldn't move even to allow him to tug against the ropes. "Fair exchange, what else could you ask for?"

To feel again... Dean's breath hitched. How could he even want what Spike offered? How could he crave to hear screams, screams that he caused, screams that weren't his own. Crave to feel slick warm liquid on his hands. Would it make him feel again? Give him joy? Give him pleasure? Make him feel alive? A trade of blood, a fair trade. Spike wanted his blood. He wanted Spike's blood...how could it be wrong?

He felt the hot sting of tears and turned away from Spike. "No," he declared softly. They were both addicts. Plain and simple. Spike needed human blood. Dean needed pain. It made him feel strong and powerful, hungry for the horrid screams he could draw forth from anyone, anything. Those screams echoing in the gaping hole inside him, filling that hole ever so briefly with something.

"Yes. Yes Dean, stop fighting your nature. There's no bloody point to fighting, is there? Where has it gotten you so far?" Each time he urged the hunter to take action, he noticed his body tensing, his shoulders getting tight. Triumph was close, so close, and yet it was snatched from his jaws the instant he saw Dean's shoulder's start to shake. It was like a direct blow to his throat, a sharp pain snapping him out of his blood-lust and making him see things for what they were.

He blinked. "Dean," he whispered, trying in vain to reach out to the man. "Dean, don't mind me, what I said. I didn't mean it, it's this... Dean, please, I won't hurt you anymore, I promise."

Laughing bitterly, Dean turned to face the vampire. "We're both lost. You traded your soul for walking in the sun, for immunity to everything but a blade across your neck. Me, I traded my soul to stop the pain, to get off that rack. There's nothing left inside anymore. Just emptiness." He felt the hot tears roll down his face. "What does it matter any more?" He looked at Spike, his eyes dead and emotionless. "If I cut you loose, will you kill me?" 

"With a glance? I don't have that power," he answered, trying to joke, but it fell flat. 

Spike stared at Dean. "Listen to me. You traded your soul for your brother, you got that, for Sam. Don't rewrite history. Only a good man, a great man would willingly go to Hell for someone he loves. Think about it, how long it took them to make you hurt anyone. How long do you think most people would say 'no?'" He wished he could dry the hunter's tears, that he could erase their source. "You've got your soul back. You refused what I offered you, Dean. Even knowing I won't die, that it would be voluntary, you refused. Give yourself credit for that. I would have killed you, drained you dry, I couldn't fight it. You, you fought your addiction, and you'll continue to fight it."

Dean stalked up to Spike, pulling a fresh blade out of his pocket and flicked it open, holding it up to his arm. His eyes flashed with fury. "And if I cut myself now, can you still fight it? Will the bloodlust come back? Will you drain me dry? Kill me? End all this...macabre masquerade of humanity?"

Closing his eyes tight, Spike prayed for strength. "I don't know. I don't want it, I don't want the bloodlust Dean," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion as he opened his eyes again. "I don't like it, it hurts, as much as what you're feeling... what you're fighting hurts. Don't." His gaze went to the blade and Dean's forearm. "You promised to help me. So help me."

Spike's words slashed Dean to the core. He wanted to cut his arm, cut Spike's bonds, and just let Spike take him. He slowly pulled the blade away from his arm. Launching it into the far wall, the blade buried itself deeply in the plaster. He sat down on the bed, looking at Spike. 

"I'm sorry," Dean said, his throat closing up as he caressed Spike's cheek. He leaned in and kissed Spike, his hand running down Spike's bare chest. After a moment he broke the kiss and straightened. "So do I leave you tied up or not? Are you hungry enough to try the blood I brought? How can I help you the most?" he asked hoarsely, fighting the desire to just give in to Spike's earlier offer. Better yet, to let Spike simply take him. 

If he could have, Spike would have sat up as Dean pulled away, and he'd have pulled him back into his arms. "Stay with me, close to me until this wears off. Kiss me again, so I can feel. Touch me."

Dean stared at Spike, his gaze running down his body, seeing the black lines across Spike's abdomen. He dredged up a smile. "Okay. Hold that thought," Dean said, stroking Spike's cheek one last time. He leaned over and, picking up the blood coated knife, took it into the bathroom and carefully rinsed it clean, then wiped his throat free of any remains of the deadman's blood. Bringing out a bandage, Dean taped it over the deep, still seeping, knife wound he had given Spike.

"My hand's bandaged, but still cut. Don't want to have an accident," Dean explained. Leaning down he kissed Spike slowly, pushing his tongue inside Spike's mouth, gently tangling his tongue with the vampire's. He caressed Spike's chest, running his hand along Spike's arm, then back down his chest before coming up to Spike's throat. He played with the fine hair at the back of Spike's neck as he began to kiss Spike more intensely. He broke off, panting a little. "You have to fight this and win, you hear me?" he whispered to the vampire. "...I need you."

There was no denying that being completely at the mercy of the hunter as he was kissed and touched, and knowing the hunter could snap and give in to the need to torture that had been bred into him in Hell, sent a strange thrill of excitement vibrating through Spike. Danger. Risk. Exactly what made this so fucking erotic. "You too. You fight and win, because I need you, Dean. Need you alive and in this world, do you hear me, Hunter?" The hot breaths fanning his face were stirring his desire. "Say yes, and then give me what I need," he added, his voice raw with desire.

"I...I hear you," Dean said. Dean pulled off his shirts and the new boots he'd gotten at the second hand store. He shifted and slid between the vampire's open legs. Bracing himself on either side, just under Spike's arms, he lowered himself but didn't allow their chests to touch as he began kissing Spike again, their groins pressing together. He ran his tongue over Spike's lips, tracing them, sampling, and giving light nips. Pulling back just a little he looked into those beautiful blue eyes and his breath practically caught in his chest at what he saw. Lust, desire, trust, ...and love. Spike had fought off the bloodlust for him. He had fought off his own addiction to torture. At least for the moment.

Leaning down again he resisted the urge to all but ravage Spike's mouth. He forced himself to go slowly, running his tongue just between the seam of Spike's lips, sucking on his lower lip, then pressing his lips lightly against the vampire's. Flicking his tongue inside Spike's mouth teasingly, he returned to just kissing him, then flicking his tongue in again, longer this time. He lowered himself more, rubbing his groin against Spike's a little before stopping and taking Spike's mouth hard, his tongue diving in, stroking Spike's tongue, investigating every niche of his silken mouth, even running his tongue over where he knew Spike's fangs were retracted, pressing lightly against them. He smile against Spike's lips at the groans he was beginning to hear. 

"Like that do you?" Dean murmured softly and teased his tongue all along Spike's gum line, wondering if he wasn't playing with fire and not really giving a damned. He was kissing a vampire who didn't have control of his bloodlust, who just a short time ago had tried to kill him. Finally he began kissing along the vampire's jaw line, licking and sucking, working his way back to his throat. He twirled his tongue dancingly down Spike's neck, then bit sharply into the tender flesh, sucking hard and beginning to slowly rub against Spike again, feeling the blood filling his cock as sure as he felt the response from the man he was making love to.

"Bloody hell, yes," Spike gave a tortured grunt. He burned everywhere Dean touched him, burned and ached for more. There wasn't a thing he could do about it if Dean took to playing with him for too long, or if he went too far and was unable to keep himself in check. No, he trusted him. He'd reach Dean no matter what, same as Dean had a knack for reaching him even at his worst moments. He arched his neck and bit down on his lower lip as Dean sucked hard enough to leave a temporary bruise on his throat. 

Dean finally released the flesh he was sucking on. "Probably," he said, kissing his way over to the Adam's apple, "ought to have," he sucked lightly, flicking his tongue over it, "a safe word. Let's make it...'funnel cake.'" 

"We need a 'safe word?'" Spike managed to turn his head slightly. "What... what do you have in mind?" He could practically feel the heat blazing in Dean's eyes and wasn't sure he could deny the hunter anything he wanted, anything he needed. 

Dean laughed softly before sucking another deep bruise onto the other side of Spike's neck. "Just to make sure I stay in control. If I start doing something I shouldn't...there aren't 'safe words' in Hell. Mostly just screams."

Frowning at that thought, Dean forced himself to focus on Spike. This had to be Spike's pleasure, not his. So long as he remembered he was doing it all to make Spike feel good, maybe he could keep at bay the other darker thoughts that kept trying to worm their way into his brain.

Shifting, he slid further up against Spike's groin and began nibbling his way down Spike's left arm, tracing along his muscles, a tiny voice in the back of his mind reminding him exactly where one could slide a knife to peel back separate muscles. He groaned in frustration. For Spike. For Spike, he reminded himself firmly. Reaching the inside of Spike's elbow he licked and sucked there, one hand shifting to Spike's palm where he began to run a circling finger in the middle of it. After torturing Spike for a few minutes there, he returned to kissing the vampire and slowly lowered himself on top of Spike, chest-to-chest as he slowly ground his groin into his lover's.

Soft sounds of pleasure left Spike's lips and he didn't try to hold any of it back, he wanted Dean to know how much he was enjoying this even when he tensed and uselessly tried to lift himself up to bring them into harder contact with each other. Just the ropes would have been enough to keep him from having his way but the deadman's blood practically paralyzed him, which was ten times worse. "Yes, sodding hell, yes," he whispered between kisses. The press of Dean's erection against his own drew another moan of pleasure from him, affected him so much he managed to take control of the kiss, thrusting his tongue in and out of Dean's mouth until the hunter slowly lifted up and left Spike burning for more. "Too early to say the safe word?" he asked, his gaze locked onto Dean's swollen lips.   
Dean kissed the side of Spike's mouth then leaned down to his ear and whispered. "Safe word means I stop." He tickled the vampire's ear with his tongue. "Now if you really want me to stop," Dean's fingers ran over one of Spike's nipples, rubbing it, making it begin to harden, "I will."

Grinning at the spew of curses, Dean returned to kissing the corners of Spike's mouth, first one side, then the other, knowing he was driving the vampire mad. After licking his fingers, he returned them to Spike's nipple and rubbed until it pebbled beneath his touch. Pressing more firmly against Spike's hardening member, Dean groaned, giving small irregular thrusts. "You drive me crazy," Dean murmured.

With a final bruising kiss, he slid down to latch on with his mouth to Spike's as yet untouched nipple. His free hand went to Spike's mouth and he pushed his middle finger inside. "Suck it, it's good practice," he told Spike with a grin then went back to work on Spike's nipple.

The look Spike shot Dean said he didn't need practice, but he was more than happy to suck on any part of Dean Dean cared to offer. Closing his eyes as Dean drove him insane, he pretended he had Dean's cock in his mouth and tried to return the favor. He sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing out as the air was vacuumed from his mouth. Alternately, he licked and pressed his tongue against Dean's finger, curling and twisting it around his thick finger, then pushing his tongue back and forth along its length. Imagining Dean hardening in his mouth, he groaned around his finger and started to suck again, moving his face to the side to allow Dean to slip another finger inside. It barely registered that his range of motion had increased a little.

Dean was ill-prepared for the way Spike's attention on his finger sent heat straight to his cock and let out with a muffled, surprised groan against Spike's chest. Had it been so long that he had forgotten how it felt to have a woman suck his finger like she was sucking his cock? Or was Spike just that much better at it than anyone he had ever had before? He didn't know and didn't care, but took Spike's wordless offer and slipped another finger in, beginning to slowly move his fingers in and out, finger fucking Spike's mouth as if it was his cock Spike was sucking on.

Shifting to Spike's other nipple he laved it with his tongue before lightly taking it between his teeth. He moved his hand down to cup Spike's encased erection as he put sudden suction on the nipple. The sound that spilled out of Spike drove him to begin to squeeze and knead Spike's cock with his hand as he intensified his efforts on Spike's chest, sliding back and forth between the vampire's nipples, nipping and biting and sucking.

A strangled cry broke from Spike as he did his best to arch up, needing more pressure on his cock and completely powerless to do anything about it. The only thing he could do was tease Dean as best as he could so that's what he did, with his mouth and tongue, with the little nips on his fingers, and with the sounds he made. He knew his eyes were glazing over, that he was slipping very quickly into a state of complete need, but that was what Dean did to him. 

When Dean bit him again and pulled his fingers out of his mouth, Spike swore. His gaze locked and clashed with Dean's. "I'd do it. Give up my soul to keep you here. You didn't do anything wrong," he said, his throat raw with need and emotion. "Whatever happens, you need to know that." He swallowed hard, afraid he'd spoken out of turn, that he'd ruined the moment. It hadn't been planned, but in that moment, he'd seen the truth.  
Dean took his hand away from Spike's groin, but kept pressure on Spike's need with his own cock as he crawled up the vampire's chest to look down into his eyes, his own almost dark with anger. "Don't. Ever. Say. That."

He did what he had been wanting to do and practically attacked Spike's mouth, ravaging it almost brutally as his hands began to roam over Spike. The thought of the vampire giving up his soul for him was almost enough to send Dean over the brink. If he didn't feel like he needed Spike so damned badly in so many ways, he might just have walked out and never looked back. Too many people had died for him already.

Spike took Dean's anger willingly, the hard kiss that crushed his lips, the clinking of their teeth as Dean's mouth moved savagely over his, battling his tongue, determined to win the battle of wills that was only in the hunter's mind. His hands were rough too, rough and desperate, and the way he touched him had Spike moaning, pleading for more whenever he could. He finally was getting some of his movement back and was able to arch up against Dean, making a frustrated sound when Dean evaded him by lifting up higher, too high for him to reach with the ropes holding him. He was being punished for telling Dean how he felt, for being willing to do what Dean had done for his brother, of that there was no doubt. 

When Dean tore his mouth away, Spike groaned at the still angry look on his face. "Hunter, if you leave me now..." he warned, his own voice hard and edged with steel. His body was burning, he needed Dean like he'd needed his blood earlier, and he would curse anyone and anything that got between him and his need for this man, even if it was the man himself. 

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You'll what?" Dean demanded, sitting back, his eyes raking over the bare-chested man tied down before him. That pale skin, flawless and leanly muscular, he suddenly thirsted to mark it, brand it, show the world Spike was his. He knew magical marks and sigils. He could potentially carve one of them into Spike's chest, speaking the demon tongue he remembered and claim Spike, mark him with a symbol that the vampire's body would not be able to erase. His eyes drifted over to the knife buried in the far wall.

"I'll... I'll kick your arse next time I can," Spike started, but then stilled noticing how Dean was watching him. His brow furrowed as he followed the hunter's gaze to the wall, tensing when he saw the hilt of the dagger. "Dean." His lover's gaze was still transfixed on the knife. "Dean," he said more loudly. "Look at me. Love me. Need you. Fuck... I'm dying for you, can't you see that? Please, please give me what I need. Forget the past, live for right now. You and me. I know you want it, too." 

Dean turned cold eyes on Spike. "I'll give you what you need," he said, his voice husky and hungry. He pushed himself off the bed and walked over to the knife, yanking it free. After cleaning it free of plaster dust he ran his thumb lightly along the blade, testing it, but being careful not to cut himself. Setting the knife on the other bed he undid his belt and pulled it out of its loops. He looked at Spike's body and down at the belt, feeling the leather and thinking of what it could do. His eyes shifted back to the knife and it seemed he struggled but finally let the belt fall from his fingers to coil on the floor. Reaching out, he undid Spike's belt, yanking it free, heating up the material as he whipped it out and tossed it over his shoulder without a glance. 

Dean's rough motions had Spike so bleedin' hard, his cock was throbbing and leaking. If he hadn't known Dean's history, if he hadn't felt Dean's dagger in his back before, Spike would have thought he was in for a bit of knife play or a bit of roughing up with the belt. It would, it did, excite him and leave him ten times needier than when he'd plead for sex, but a part of him recognized real danger. His eyes followed Dean, tried to meet Dean's eyes to read the other man's, though Dean kept avoiding his gaze.

Dean stared at the definite bulge under Spike's jeans. Doffing his pants and underwear, Dean then turned and picked up the knife.

Heat and fear rushed through Spike's veins as he pressed himself down as far as he could into the mattress and eyed Dean, biting his lower lip. He didn't say a word, but his eyes kept seeking Dean's, willing him to meet his gaze.

Dean's hand shot out and took hold of Spike's waistband, yanking it hard. Turning the knife in his hand, he slid it under the waistband and used the very sharp knife to cut the denim with little effort, all the way down to and through the cuff. He grabbed hold of Spike's briefs and slit the side of them as well. He went around to the other side of Spike and putting his knee on the bed, repeated the deed. After staring down at the knife a moment, he launched it into the far wall with all his strength. Going to the end of the bed he grabbed the denim and yanked, baring Spike's body and revealing Spike's hard and ready cock. Sliding his hands along Spike's legs he crawled onto the bed, looking at Spike's cock already damp with precum. His gaze continued upwards to meet Spike's eyes.

"Tell me what you want," Dean said, his voice raspy and filled with need. 

Spike's chest was rising and falling as he took breaths he didn't need for survival but took in a remembered human reaction. His gaze went to the knife that Dean had tossed back into the wall, the blade which almost surprisingly hadn't cut into him. Not yet anyway, since Dean had kept it handy. "I want you, hunter. Any way I can have you, haven't you figured that out yet?" he asked.

"You'd let me do what ever I wanted, wouldn't you?" Dean asked, more to himself than to Spike as his hands trailed up and down Spike's thighs. "Do you know one of the reasons I want you to beat your bloodlust? Not because it means I'd have to stop you if you didn't, because I'm not sure I could anymore, but because when you were fucking me and bit me," his hungry eyes met Spike's, "it was one of the hottest moments of sex I've ever had. I want you to beat it so you can bite me again, so I can feel your teeth scrape over me, so I can feel the thrill of your fangs in my throat again. I wished I could bite you, taste you, the way you were tasting me and give you that same thrill."

Leaning down, Dean ran his tongue up the underside of Spike's cock, taking it in his hand and swirling his tongue around its head. "I want you just as bad, vampire. Just as bad as you want me." After a moment of hesitation he sucked Spike's cock into his mouth. He groaned at the taste of Spike, at the feel of that cock in his mouth. Thoughts of Hell, of his mouth having been fucked by inhuman creatures of Hell, never even brushed his mind. He gripped Spike's hips hard enough to leave bruises as he began to bob his head, sucking and licking that sweet velvet steel. 

Spike had barely been holding on, his teeth clenched together and ready to demand whether Dean was trying to trigger his bloodlust, when Dean's admission about his own needs silenced him. He swallowed as white hot heat inched through his veins, and that was before Dean touched him. The way he spoke to him, gave him the facts of his own need almost had Spike coming right there. A sheen of sweat covered his body as he listened to Dean's heartbeats and waited... wanted... waited.

The first touch of Dean's mouth had him hissing out his pleasure and digging his heels into the mattress, raising his body up. The dead man's blood was wearing off and it was about bloody time. "Gah... Dean," he jerked as Dean sucked hard, tightening the wet heat of his mouth around him, sheathing and squeezing Spike's cock. Dean's fingers bit into him, but Spike didn't care, so long as Dean kept sucking and moving his mouth up and down his length, giving him the friction he needed, he had no complaints. "Good. Yeah, sodding hell, that's it," he muttered, moving his head from side to side. He started to move a little more, cursing at the ropes when he couldn't touch the hunter.   
"Turn around. Let me taste you, too," he said suddenly. He licked his lips very slowly, very deliberately, wanting to give Dean some incentive.

Dean kept Spike's cock in his mouth but stopped bobbing his head, instead lightly sucking on its tip. He had been as brutal fucking the mouths of damned souls as the demons had been with him. The memory of his fingers in Spike's mouth made him give a soft groan, convincing him it was worth the risk. He crawled up Spike's body, careful not to touch Spike's hard dick and turned around. Looking down between his legs he slowly lowered his cock into the vampire's open mouth.

"No teeth," Dean told Spike firmly, though his lips twitched with a smile, at least until Spike closed his mouth around his cock. Throwing his head back Dean groaned loudly, hungrily returning his focus to the glistening wet member in front of him. He leaned in and swallowed Spike all the way down. It didn't occur to him that on Earth he might have a gag reflex. After a moment of almost choking, of panic tensing him, he swallowed around Spike's cock, backing off just a little, and reminded himself he had control.

Spike smiled around Dean's cock, sucking lightly on it. It had been a brilliant move, he thought. Now he not only got to touch Dean a little, but it also gave him something to concentrate on, something other than how much he needed release. Increasing the vacuum in his mouth, he felt Dean's hard flesh swell against his cheeks and heard the sound the hunter made. Just the thought of the hunter's pleasure made Spike's cock twitch. Closing his eyes, he started to suck, pushing his head up and down, glad he could move that far. He was tireless, sucking and pressing his tongue harder against Dean's cock, giving him a tighter fit as he moved up and down. Because he was wishing he could push Dean's face down and fuck his mouth harder, he knew Dean had to be feeling the same, knew it and encouraged it, satisfied only when he felt Dean buck and sink down a little lower, shoving his cock down into Spike's throat. 

Dean had given more blow jobs in Hell than he could count and had learned all the ways to pleasure his torturers, especially if it held off the torture for a short time. He denied the memories associated with how he learned, and just focused on using all his skills on Spike's thick cock. Even with all he had learned, sucking, wrapping his tongue around and around the cock, tightening his lips, he wasn't sure he held a candle to Spike's talented mouth. The way Spike worked him had him sweating and groaning, beginning to fuck into that sweet mouth and made him work even harder on Spike. He began to turn his groans into a vibrating hum and felt Spike thrust deeper into his mouth. He jerked back a little, startled that Spike could move already. He would have murmured an apology but instead returned to working Spike harder, ready for the next time he elicited such a thrust from Spike. He couldn't take the vampire's cock quite as deeply as he wanted, but he knew that was purely his fear and he would just have work on getting over it. Maybe with lots and lots of future practice, he thought with a smirk to himself as he sucked extra long and hard, humming all the while.

It was agony and pleasure, and agony again. It came in waves and had Spike fighting harder and harder against the paralysis and winning. He wanted to pull his knees up off the bed, he wanted to lift up into Dean's mouth, he wanted so badly to roll them over and fuck into Dean's hot wet mouth, even as he was sucked harder than he'd ever been sucked. If his mouth weren't busy, he'd have been shouting and swearing, demanding. It went on and on, with him concentrating on his own pleasure, and when that became too much, on Dean's... turning up the heat and using his tongue and the things he'd learned in a century, until the sounds and reactions he drew from the hunter got to him, and he went back to thinking about how Dean was making him feel. It went on and on, for longer than he thought possible. 

He used his tongue to push at Dean's cock as he turned his face to the side, forcing it out of his mouth. He wasn't surprised that Dean instantly repositioned himself, pressing his wet cock against Spike's mouth. Spike licked the crown of Dean's cock, spearing his tongue and sliding it back and forth over its slit, knowing how sensitive he'd be to any pressure there right now. After playing with him like that, he managed to lick up the underside of Dean's cock and mouth open, sucked his balls inside his mouth, moving his head from side to side.   
Dean had never had anyone work him like Spike was working him and Spike couldn't even touch him. He would have felt like putty in the vampire's hands if he weren't concentrating on trying to give Spike the best damned blowjob this side of Hell. His first blowjob outside of Hell, for that matter. When he felt his cock slip from Spike's mouth and tried to push back in, he cursed in frustration, even if only in his mind since his mouth was full of Spike. When Spike began sucking on his balls, Dean's arms nearly gave out and Spike's cock slipped from his mouth as he shuddered with pleasure. He returned the favor, nestling his nose down in the soft curls and gently licking and sucking at Spike's balls. Lowering himself he wrapped his arms around and under Spike's thighs. One hand dove between the cleft of Spike cheeks and probed for that puckered flesh. Upon finding it, he circled his finger around and around it, occasionally just barely breaching the opening, then took Spike's cock back in his mouth. 

Spike's eyes rolled back as a muffled groan left him. He clenched his ass cheeks, gripping Dean's finger and silently signaling his enjoyment. Fuck, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. Sucking one last time, he pulled his mouth off Dean's sac. "Need... need to come, Dean, now. Bloody fucking now. Give me your cock," he demanded, lifting his chin up and opening his mouth. 

The instant Dean lowered himself, Spike took the hunter's cock, every inch of it until he bottomed out at his throat. Humming around his shaft, he started to single mindedly work his cock, determined to bring Dean off now, silently urging Dean to give him the same. He was relentless and wasn't satisfied until Dean started to fuck his mouth. He started humming louder, sucking, opening his mouth as Dean pushed himself inside, loving how erratic Dean's thrusts were now. Come on... come for me. Come.

Being sheathed in Spike's mouth again had Dean practically in throes of ecstasy. Although Dean was accustomed to being in any sort of pain and to still be able to finish off a blow job, this was definitely screwing with his concentration. Pulling off Spike's cock only long enough to wet his finger, he took Spike's cock back in his mouth.

Thrusting into Spike's silken heat, feeling the vibrations that went straight through his core had him moaning around Spike's cock as he began to bob his head faster and faster. He took Spike's thick flesh deeper into his throat every time he thrust into Spike. He was losing his rhythm as his body began to shake with need, the pressure inside him lighting his blood with sheer fire. He was close, so close, and Spike's merciless mouth dragged him toward that teetering edge. With the last bit of brain synapses left, he thrust his finger inside Spike's hole, going right for his sweet spot as he took Spike as deeply as he could and sucked hard. The reaction was exactly what he hoped for and as he felt Spike's cum shoot down his throat, his own body reacted instantly. His balls drawing up painfully hard and he felt his own hot release as his whole body spasmed. He gave a muffled cry of pure pleasure as he buried his spewing cock deep into Spike's mouth.

Yes, bloody fucking hell, yes. Fuuuck... Spike writhed and bucked, the ropes cutting his body and burning into his flesh at his involuntary and uncontrollable reactions to coming hard, all the feelings in him exploding into a thousand points of intense sensations. Each time Dean swallowed around his cock, each time he sucked and milked him, blinding heat raged through Spike. He might be over a century old, but he'd just been shown he hadn't done and felt everything, that this hunter, this human touched and affected him in ways he hadn't thought possible. He was well on his way to losing his heart, or maybe he already had. 

That very non-beating heart alerted him to the danger. He quickly pushed Dean's cock out and pressed his closed lips against it just as his fangs elongated. "If you were trying to distract me from bloodlust... you get an A plus," he said, trying to regain control over his body. "Don's stop," he added, brushing his fingers across what he thought was Dean's calf, and moaning as Dean gently sucked him again. 

Letting Spike's cock fall from his mouth as he pulled his fingers out of Spike's hole, he licked and nuzzled around Spike's groin. "Don't stop, huh?" he panted. "Then how come my cock isn't in your mouth anymore? Making me do all the work now, is that how it's going to be?"

Dean slowly crawled off Spike and turned around. He kissed his way up Spike's chest until he reached Spike's lips.

"Mmm," Spike kept his mouth sealed and shook his head, lifting his chin and only then opening a little to show Dean his razor sharp teeth. "Just being careful, yeah? Wouldn't want to cut off my nose to spite my face... I like your bits, I like them just as they are," he met Dean's gaze. "It's alright, it's not bloodlust."

"I can tell by the look in your eyes it's not. Is it common for a vamp's teeth to come out at the same time you 'come?'" Dean asked, his gaze transfixed on those sharp teeth, trying to keep from groaning at seeing them and remembering how it felt when Spike had bit him.

"Involuntarily?" Spike waited a moment, concentrated and felt his teeth shift back into place. "No. But it can happen in cases of over-stimulation or mind blowing sex. You look disappointed," he said, noting the way Dean was looking at his mouth. He'd been expecting a look of horror seeing as he'd had Dean's cock in his mouth only a few moments ago. 

"I was going to say you don't get to give me blow jobs anymore, though maybe we shouldn't be sixty-nining in the future if this is what it does to you. And thanks for...uhm, leaving my 'bits' intact. I don't think it would all magically grow back like it did in Hell." Dean rubbed his index finger across Spike's soft lips. "...I like seeing them. Screwed up, huh? Just on you, though. I know what you can do with them, how you can make me feel with them." He shook his head. "I can remember seeing them in Lenore's mouth and her hissing, wanting my brother's blood, but forcing the bloodlust back." Dean pursed his own lips. "Maybe they would have turned me on then, too, if the hate my dad had bred into me for the supernatural hadn't been so thorough back then."

"This might not be exactly the right time to ponder who else could turn you on," Spike said tightly, not at all pleased Dean could think about someone else now of all times. His own mind was focused only on Dean. His scent, his taste, the need to run his hands over the hunter's damp skin, to claim him, every inch of him. 

"Jealous?" Dean asked a little smugly. "Good."

Dean spread himself like a blanket over Spike and shifted so his mouth was out at Spike's right hand. He studied his palm a minute, then slowly licked up it until he reached the end of Spike's fingers and sucked the middle one lightly into his mouth. He slid his mouth over to the next and the next, then working his way back to Spike's index finger which he sucked down and tongued, playing with it like it was Spike's cock. Before Spike could do much more than groan, he moved his lips to the center of the palm and alternately sucked on it and ran his tongue around that sensitive section of skin. Running his fingers lightly down the vampire's forearm, his mouth and tongue followed, first sucking on skin just past the ropes then he nibbled, licked and sucked his way slowly up Spike's arm, to his neck, and finally reached his mouth.

"Determined to make me want you again, aren't you?" Spike whispered against Dean's lips. "I've got news for you, hunter. I will always want you. Anytime, anyplace. After we've made love a hundred times over, it's that easy, yeah?" He kissed Dean's bottom lip, nipping it with his own. "Simple." His prize was a smile, and then Dean brought his mouth down over Spike's and they were kissing again. There was nothing rushed or hurried about it this time as each of them gave and took, moaning softly against each other's lips. 

When Dean broke the kiss and would have rolled off him, Spike spoke. "Stay, just a while. I like how you feel on me, light like a feather. Must be all those salads, eh?" He smiled. "Come on, no hitting the vampire. I'm all tied up and it wouldn't be fair, would it?"

Dean glared at Spike. "I am not a rabbit. That's my brother." Dean had planned to roll off Spike and untie him, but Spike seemed to want to stay tied up and there was no doubt that it turned Dean on, even if it did scare him a little. He resituated himself, rolling off just enough that he was half-on, half-off Spike, nestling up close to the vampire. He would vehemently deny he was doing the after sex snuggling thing. More like the after sex sprawl. "And what makes you think I'm going anywhere, Mr. Fangs?"

"You left at about this time last night, Mr. Gloryhole-for-a-mouth, Winchester. That's what. And I don't see you as someone who would want to play babysitter all night. Can't expect you to," he added, though he knew he'd beg and plead for Dean to stay with him if that's what it took. Or lure him into another round of sex.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I went to get some alone time. I'm not exactly a daily deep thinker though. I haven't eaten dinner yet, but since I had that charcoal, I found a little grill at the thrift store. Thought I'd set it up out there," he jerked his head toward the small patio, "and cook up my dinner. Be a damned crime to let that bass go to waste. Picked up some more beer while I was out, too. As for babysitting you all night, I don't plan on sleeping in the car." He ran his hand over Spike's chest with a sigh. "But I'm guessing it would probably be smart if we slept in separate beds tonight. With you tied up...I'm afraid what I might do," Dean admitted.

"No."

The single word, spoken with conviction, cracked like a whip.

Spike brushed his mouth against Dean's temple and hair. "I'm not afraid. You'll be too busy 'taking care of me' to want anything else. And maybe, just maybe you'll find you don't need anything else." He was quiet for a moment. "I saw how you looked at the dagger. You fought it. You won, Dean. You'll keep winning."

"The belt wasn't any safer," Dean murmured. "I'm afraid what I'll do when I'm half asleep. Not when I'm awake. ...I almost marked you. I remember things from Hell. I know things, symbols, that could scar your skin, that not even your vampiric healing could erase, I'm pretty certain. When you were in bloodlust, you were right. I wanted to feed you, I wanted to trade blood for blood. And then when I took off my belt? That was hard to drop instead of snapping it across your chest." Dean twisted his head so he could look into Spike's face. "What about you? Do you think you're going to be able to...I mean I can't keep you tied up forever."

"To control my bloodlust? Maybe. If you don't bleed all over me." The thought had Spike groaning and mentally kicking himself. "That was bloody stupid," he admitted. "I've kept it in check for a few hours but..." He had at the beach too, after he'd turned on Dean and then had settled down, he'd been in control for many hours until Dean cut himself. "I don't trust myself, I'm afraid what I might do."  
A muscle twitched in Spike's jaw. "We're a pair, aren't we? Afraid to sleep, afraid to..." A steely look entered his piercing blue eyes. "Right, you're going to have your dinner. I'm going to have some blood." A shiver of revulsion ran through him as he thought of cow and pig blood sliding down his throat in place of fresh human blood from the most intoxicating human he'd ever met and who he was sure would voluntarily part with some of his blood.

He nodded, convincing himself. "And then you're going to mark me, the way you want. But you're going to stop, Dean, I say the safe word, and you stop. And you prove to yourself you can, and then you sleep with me, and whatever it takes, I'll fight my own demons and not take any blood from you, even if you're this close and vulnerable in sleep."

"I don't know that I can stop if I start to mark you," Dean said. "I guess if I have something specific, a beginning and end point, then maybe...maybe I can." Dean kissed Spike as he slowly got his knees under him. He straightened up and crawled off the bed, trailing his hand along Spike's body as he did. He stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the vampire's beautiful body. "What if I were to put a few drops of my blood in your blood-type of choice. Do you think that would help make it tolerable? Or would that just make it worse for you?"

Spike gave an anguished, "I don't know. You'd have to keep that dead man's blood handy." He pulled against the ropes, and they seemed unbreakable but it didn't keep him from worrying. And wishing... it didn't keep him from wishing he could drink for Dean.

"All right," Dean said, his mind racing with possibilities. "Let's try without first. A sip of each to see if any is more tolerable than another. If everything is undrinkable, then I'll put in a drop or two of my blood in one and try to sweeten the pot for you a little. If that doesn't work, we'll figure something out." Dean knew the option he hadn't brought up was the most dangerous one and he didn't want Spike to latch onto it and not try the other two first. When Spike drank from him the other night, Spike didn't go all bloodlust-crazy. Maybe if he had a cup of blood it would sate his hunger. Maybe some would be enough to get Spike through it when it hit. "Let me go heat them up a little in the microwave, unless you think cold is better?" 

"Warm, yeah. And a beer... chaser." His eyes followed Dean as he walked from the bed. "Also... might help if you keep the clothes off."

"Yeah, but it'll draw admirers if I'm standing around in the lobby naked. I'd have to fight them off and then your blood would get cold again," Dean tossed back at him without missing a beat. Dean slid into his jeans commando and tossed on a t-shirt. He pulled out the ice chest with the blood and bent over, waggling his ass just a little at Spike as he loaded up the cups in a carrying box. He made sure he had his key to get back in, then stopped and grabbed a dagger with a sheath and put some deadman's blood on the blade. "Just in case I come back and you've gotten frisky," Dean told him. 

"You could make a bump on a log frisky, I'm blaming you." It was too bloody bad he was distracted by watching Dean's jean clad ass as the hunter left the room because it was too late when he was shouting for him to come back and turn the damned telly on. Now he was tied up, naked, alone and had no one to blame but himself.   
Somehow, Spike found himself staring at the hilt of the blade sticking out of the wall.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean quickly mastered how long it took to heat the blood to get it close to body temperature and since everything was in cups, and the desk clerk was reading a magazine, he wasn't paid any mind. Carrying the cups using a box top as a tray, he made his way back to the motel room in short order. Opening the door, he saw Spike was still neatly tied up. After shutting the door he paused, admiring Spike's body and finding his cock twitching at seeing Spike spread eagle like he was. He swallowed back the groan. This wasn't the time.

Dean set the tray of cups beside the TV to keep as much of the scent away from Spike as possible. He pulled out the bag of straws he bought, popped the lid on the first cup, and put the straw down in it. After a moment of hesitation, he stripped his shirt off, and then walked over to Spike with the blood.

"Okay, let's try this one first," Dean said and put the bendy straw's tip close to Spike's mouth.

"If Buffy weren't alive, I'd say you're Buffy reincarnated," Spike grumbled, remembering being tied up by her and being fed the same way, through a straw. 

The scent of the blood hit him. He focused on Dean, his gaze sliding down from that handsome face, to his throat and bare, muscled chest. As his lips wrapped around the straw, he imagined they were latching over Dean's nipple instead.

"I hope that's a compliment and you're not calling me a bubblegum smacking chick again," Dean said, giving him a suspicious look.

Two sucks, that was as far as Spike got before he pulled back, gagging on the pungent liquid. "Don't want it. Take it away, I'm done... Sod it all, I don't want it," he yelled when Dean didn't pull it away from him fast enough.

"Spike, calm down!" Dean told him sharply. "I'm not gonna force it down you. Take a couple deep breaths or whatever." Dean walked over to beside the TV and marked an 'x' on the cup. "Okay, that's a big fucking 'no' if ever I've heard one." He grabbed a fresh beer, put a fresh straw in it, and took it over to his tied-up lover. "Drink this, get the taste out of your mouth. We'll try another in a minute." He ran his hand through Spike's hair. "You did good. You at least got two sips down. That's all I'm asking, is for you just to try each one, no matter how rank, okay? I'll make it worth your while in the end, promise."

Dean felt both disappointment and worry. What the hell were they going to do if Spike had a reaction like that to everything he had brought? _Then he'll just have to drink human blood, and learn to control his bloodlust,_ Dean told himself. Maybe one of them would be more tolerable than another. If he could find at least one that Spike didn't immediately gag on, a little human blood mixed in might be enough to allow him to drink it. _C'mon, God, I'm gonna be pissed as hell if you put him in my life only to make me have to kill him. Gimme some fucking help here._ Thinking back to Madison and Sam, he snorted softly. Yeah like God gave a shit about the Winchesters. So long as they did whatever task God wanted, God didn't care. Give them a small bag of treats to tempt them, to remind them life wasn't one big sewer of stinking crap, then when they'd barely had but a few of those treats, steal that bag away, pat 'em on the head like good dogs, and tell them to get their asses back to work. _And I wonder how much work for God I can do if I'm a bloodlust filled vamp. If they can fix me, take it away, then they can do the god-damned same for Spike. If not, they can just kill us both._

Spike drank and drank, draining half the bottle even through the narrow straw before he lifted his head. The look in Dean's eyes hit him in the gut, made him wish he could force the blood down his throat if only to satisfy the hunter. "I can't," he said distinctly. "I don't want any more, any other kind... it's all the same. Not just nausea. Feels like... like it's fighting what's in me, the blood in me. Please, don't make me." He brushed his face against Dean's hand, still holding the bottle. "Tomorrow, I'll hit a blood bank. I'll take care of this." He wasn't sure his reaction to blood from a blood bank would be any different than to blood from a dead animal, but he'd try, and if that failed, he'd go after the criminal element or blood dolls. Dean didn't have to know. The hunter was unlikely to tolerate that. "I'll take care of it."

"Like it's fighting...?" Dean said. After a moment he shut his eyes. "The blood. All of it was taken after the animals were already dead. Deadman's blood, just the animal version of it. Doesn't paralyze you, but makes you sick." Dean sat down on the bed at Spike's side and took his hand. "Lenore and her nest, as far as I know they only took live kills, draining cows in the fields. The blood dealers, either they sell to your type of vamp, or they can drink blood in a bag so long as it's taken from a living donor. The dog and cat blood I got, there isn't very much of either, but the animals were living when it was taken. Will you try one of them? There's not much more than a swallow of either one. See if it twists you up inside like the other blood does? I won't ask you to try any more of the blood after that, I promise." Squeezing Spike's hand, he added, "And I'll give you some of mine to drink afterward. You're tied up, I can have a deadman's blood-coated dagger at your side. And I'd kinda rather have you here and tied up the next time you drink human blood, not at some blood bank where you try it and decide you want your donor to be walking around instead of out of a bag." His eyes begging Spike he asked, "Will you try, for me?"

Spike turned his head but couldn't touch Dean's hand or arm with it since his own hands were tied above his head and that's where Dean's hand was at the moment. He had a good view of Dean's wrist though, real good. Prominent blue veins with blood rushing through them had his rapt attention. He knew a swallow or two would take the disgust and pain away. Maybe it would bring with it another sort of painful craving, but it beat feeling like this. The rational part of his mind struggled to reestablish control over his thoughts, reminding him that with the hunger came the possibility of hurting Dean. Finally, he spoke through clenched teeth. "You're such a bloody tease, even when you don't know it." There was silence. The hunter was waiting for his answer. "Don't want cat."

"Okay, dog it is." Dean went over to the box, opened one of the cups and pulled out a vial. There were probably about two thimblefuls of blood in it. He popped off the lid. "Not enough for a straw. Took a lot of sweet talking on my part to get the vet assistant to get me blood from a cat and a dog that they were running tests on. Course they couldn't get much from either, but I figured even a small sample to try was worth the effort." 

Dean moved to Spike's side and put the vial to his lips, up-ending the small swallow into Spike's mouth. He bit his lip as he waited and watched. "Well?" he finally asked.

It was a small amount, less than a full swallow. Spike thought he could take it, not matter what it was like. He was wrong. 

His entire body suddenly seized up with tremors. "De..." They were so strong, his teeth knocked together and he had to grit them together. His head lifted off the pillow and he fell back over and over, his chest and body also rising off the mattress as far as he could go given the bindings held him down. Eyes rolling back into his head, he tried to speak but the words were unintelligible, all but the word 'no.' 

"Spike!" Dean tossed the vial aside and put his hands on the seizing vampire's shoulders. "It'll be okay. I'll take care of you. I'll give you what you need."

Dean got the deadman's blood out and retrieved the knife from the wall, dipping it into the blood, then putting the lid on the jar and making sure to get it out of Spike's reach in case something went wrong. _Something's already gone wrong,_ Dean chastised himself. Taking another knife, he made a cut about an inch back from his wrist. He held his wrist up above Spike's mouth, keeping it well out of range, but letting his blood drip onto Spike's lips. "Human blood, Spike, taste it."

A few drops of Dean's blood slid down his tongue and it was like a veil lifting from his eyes. The uncontrollable shaking stopped and so did the pain. He opened his mouth wider, licking his lips clean and greedily taking more. It was sweet and spicy and human; it was Dean. Memories of feeding from Dean during sex struck him full force and had him groaning. His entire body reacted, his cock hardening just like that. His teeth ached, but he kept them retracted, swallowing as much as he could. "Wrist... give it to me," he demanded, again licking his lips clean. "Won't bite... give it to me, please... sodding hell, just give it to me."

Dean hesitated, then lowered his wrist for Spike to drink. He had planned on putting blood in a cup for Spike, for safety's sake, until the vampire had started seizing. He held the blade coated with deadman's blood at Spike's ribs, ready in case Spike went overboard and did bite. "You bite, you're back to not being able to move for an hour," Dean cautioned him. He still couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't damned foolish. It probably was but he'd certainly done stupider things in his life. Like letting Spike bite him in the throat while they were making love.   
Nodding his understanding, Spike eagerly closed his mouth around Dean's wound and closed his eyes as he drank. He was hungry, so hungry that it hurt not to allow his fangs to extend and to drink slowly, rather than making the wound bigger and forcing Dean's blood to come faster. But it was satisfying too, it transported him to a place of peace, where he could listen to the sound of Dean's heart, feel his pulse against his mouth, drink his essence, and make him a part of himself. The only way he could feel closer was if they were having sex. He drank a little more, then pulled off, opening his eyes and locking them with Dean's. 

"Thank you. Better. And no bloodlust," Spike stated the obvious. 

Dean didn't relax until Spike stopped sucking at the wound. He set the blood coated knife aside and stroked Spike's face. He heard his own stomach growling. "Yeah. That's good. You think if you stay well fed, you'll be okay? Did it feel like you wanted to go into bloodlust?" Dean asked. He let the blood from his arm continue to drip into Spike's mouth. He didn't want to leave Spike's side yet but he was going to have to get it bandaged soon.

"No, was alright. Like when we had sex. In control. It's worse, isn't it? That it's unpredictable?" He searched Dean's face. "Go, bandage yourself, eat. I'll be alright. Wish I had my wanking hand," he muttered, catching a few more drops and licking them off his lips.

"Being unpredictable isn't swell, no. Can't have you roaming around and going nutso when you smell blood and lose it." Dean wrapped his hand around the seeping wound. Like when they had sex...maybe they'd be able to do that again. He wanted to, he definitely wanted to. "Your wanking hand? What is a wanking hand?" Dean asked as he headed into the bathroom to wash his cut. With a raised eyebrow he saw Spike's erection, cum leaking from its head. It wasn't just a hard on, it was a full fledged big-as-shit erection. Spike hadn't been in that condition before he had Dean's blood.

Staring back, Spike answered. "You're a smart hunter, I'm sure you'll have that one figured out. But if you're really curious, feel free to sit on my lap, yeah? And mind the pole." He let his eyes close as he thought about how he'd fucked Dean, his own personal porn playing in his head. 

Staring at Spike's erection, both his eyebrows went up. "Huh. My new word for the day. 'Wanking.' So drinking blood has that effect on you? Or just my blood?" Dean asked as he patted dry his wound then bandaged it. He felt bad for Spike, but dammit, he at least wanted to get the charcoal going so he could get his dinner cooked. Once the charcoal was going, then he could tend to Spike's needs. 

"Just yours. You taste ... right, you taste just like you look," he said, changing his mind on trying to explain. "You know what your looks do to me, and no need to get smug about it," Spike added, knowing the hunter would anyway. "It can't be news to you."

"I seem to recall you saying I taste like pink ribbons and bubblegum," Dean said. "Besides I thought it was my charming personality that got you hot and bothered. Don't objectify me," he told the vampire. "Even if I am damned adorable," he finished with a grin. 

Walking over to Spike, he leaned down and gave him a teasing kiss. "Let me get my charcoal burning, then I'll see what I can do about the other little fire I started." An evil look filled his eyes and he turned to Spike's cock. He ran his tongue over the tip, licking away the pearly bead. "Be back in a minute," he tossed over his shoulder as he headed out to his car to retrieve the charcoal.

"Hunter!" Spike shouted at him at the top of his lungs, not caring what they thought next door. He looked down at his cock and started to utter one oath after another. "If you've never been to a bondage club or had a pet, I can tell you you're a natural," he said, his gaze following Dean, once the hunter returned and walked out of the sliding glass doors to start his barbecue. "Just so long as you don't get used to it. I don't make a good pet. And I'm not good at staying tied up. For long." He thought about the times the Scoobs had him tied up. "Most of the time," he added, feeling very much like he was talking to himself. 

Dean was humming to himself, very pleased with almost everything. Pleased Spike hadn't gone bloodlusty. Pleased he turned Spike that hard that fast. Pleased he could 'torture' Spike without actually hurting him. He lit up the charcoal and made sure it caught then came back inside. He wasn't happy that Spike seemed only able to drink human blood, but maybe if he could get a hold of Lenore, she could enlighten them as to how her nest did it. He approached the bed, going to the foot of it, his eyes raking over the beautiful pale body of the vampire. Suddenly, need welled up in him. The need to mark Spike, to hurt him in ways he didn't want to. He turned away, cursing under his breath. 

Still turned away from Spike, he knew his voice was a little strained as he asked, "So, hand job or blow job?" 

"You have your needs." Spike knew exactly how Dean felt. "Get the dagger from the wall, leave it on my stomach and go eat. Then we'll continue this," he said, raising his chin.

"That dagger is the one coated with deadman's blood on the nightstand," Dean said. He was silent for nearly a minute, in part as he struggled to get himself under control. He finally took a deep breath. Pulling the pocket knife he'd used on himself out, he opened it and turned, looking at Spike. He felt shame fill him. How could he want to hurt Spike? With a shaky hand, he put the open blade on the vampire's stomach. He ran his hand down Spike's chest lightly. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Swallowing hard he went over to the ice chest and pulled out the fish and the other things he had gotten for the picnic by the lake. His stomach was twisting inside him so badly he wasn't sure he was even going to be able to eat. 

Spike's eyes followed the hunter. "We're no different, Dean. I want to take. I can hurt, or I can kill in the process. I need to find control. Receiving... it's some pain, but it's got benefits, yeah? You liked it when I drank from you. If you... if you don't take too much, don't go too far, I can enjoy this," he said, looking down at the pocket knife, then at Dean. "Stay in control, and we'll both get what we want, what we need. Just thinking about what you need, look... look what you do to me," he said, his voice a little ragged. 

"But would you ask for it if I wasn't so fucked in the head that the need to hurt is almost as strong as the need to breathe?" Dean asked bitterly. He set the food out and began filling his plate with coleslaw and potato salad and the other foods he had gotten. He opened the bag of potato chips and glanced out at the grill. The flames were quickly dying down. As he stared at the food on the plate, he knew he needed to eat but nothing looked appetizing. He set the plate down, nearly pitching it into the trash instead. "I'm pathetic. Even if my good looks turn you on, it doesn't change that I'm a pathetic excuse of a human being." 

"Eat. For me," Spike asked, echoing Dean's earlier request. "Take a bite or two, I might want something more from you later," he added, giving Dean an incentive, knowing Dean wanted to help. "As for I would ask for it?" He gave a low laugh. "You said you can mark me, I'm all over that. Don't forget, I was one of four vampires... the Scourge of Europe. My Drusilla did not play nice and I was with her for decades, many more than you've been alive. Now eat the bloody fish and stop making me think along those lines," he practically whined.

Giving a heavy sigh, Dean knew he couldn't bring himself to refuse Spike when Spike had tried so hard for him. Even if he didn't really want to eat, he owed it to Spike. Besides, if he was going to have to feed Spike, he would need to keep up his strength. Depending on how much and how often the vampire needed to eat he _might_ be able to keep up with Spike's blood needs. Probably not, but he would figure out something. He had to.

"Okay, I'll eat. So what's all this Scourge of Europe crap? Or should I just turn on the TV?" 

"You in hell, times four, and we were playing with innocent people, not the damned," Spike answered. He'd given a lot away about his past but he knew Dean could easily find all this out for himself. Now was the time to give the hunter all the facts or it would bite him in the arse, of that he was sure. 

Dean gave a slight nod, looking a little thoughtful. "You're right about us being a pair. You went from bad to good. I went the other way. Ying and yang and all that crap." He took the fish out to the grill, slapped it on, then came back in, washing his hands before returning to the small table in the room. He sat down and began to eat, starting in on a beer. "So distract me from the food I don't really want. Tell me about being the _Scourge_ and the other three vamps you hung with."

"Wrong." Spike waited for Dean to look at him. "I went from good, to evil, to this. Wouldn't call me good, maybe not so evil. We're in the same place, hunter. Exactly the same place. If I tell you half of it, I'm not sure you'll ever be able to look me in the face again. Not sure you won't rid the world of me. Probably best to talk about it when I'm not 'tied up.'" 

"Do you regret it now? What you did back then?" Dean asked, absently eating some of the food on his plate.

"Not all of it. Some did deserve what they got." Closing his eyes, he remembered the cries, the pleas. Remembered how they'd excited or bored him. Did the memories haunt him now? "Yes. It would have been better for many people if a slayer had staked me. Better for me not to have done the deeds than to try to right past wrongs, but it's all we can do." 

"If you hadn't become...less evil...a lot of people would be worse off now, right?" Dean asked. "But yeah, I get it. If I told you half of what I did in Hell, I couldn't look _you_ in the face. I can barely look at myself in a mirror." Dean's gaze roved over Spike's naked body. "It's kinda weird you know. You all stretched out, tied up, and naked, and me sitting here eating dinner. You want me to pull a sheet over you or anything? Do vampires get cold?"

"Depends. You covering me up because you want something or are you just being 'nice.'?"

A frown creased Dean's brow for a moment. "Maybe both," he said with a half shrug. He didn't see the point of lying. Seemed like they only 'lied' to each other when they were teasing each other. Real things they didn't lie about, though they might sweep it under the carpet but made it clear it was not up for discussion. At least not at that moment. 

"I want to feel less guilty for keeping you tied up, making it feel a little less like something I'd be doing in Hell. And I didn't know if you got cold, or would feel more comfortable being covered up for a little while." He could see the blade lying on Spike's stomach and felt a muscle in his jaw clench. Dinner first.

"Alright. Cover me up," he agreed. "But don't feel guilty on my account, I know why you're doing this. You're right to do it. And let me have a bite of that fish you caught and are so bloody proud of. A _small_ bite."

"Right to do it because you don't trust yourself?" Dean said, hoping that was the answer but suspecting it wasn't. "I'll check the fish but I don't think it's done yet. You want some potato chips or a drink of your beer?" Dean asked, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing the comforter from the other bed. He snapped it out and it settled slowly over Spike. Dean adjusted it so Spike's ribcage and above were showing. He couldn't help it that he liked admiring Spike's bare chest. He looked Spike over and wasn't sure that helped much, but he tried to believe it did. 

"No, not hungry or thirsty, not for food. I was just curious to see if all that showing off about your catch was just show." He continued to tease the hunter and to try to amuse him, wanting more than anything to erase the note of sadness or regret he still saw in Dean's eyes. There was a defeated air about him that bothered Spike. Still, in his heart, he was certain Dean wasn't broken beyond the point of repair. He'd try everything, anything, anything to help Dean find himself. It took quite a while, but by the time Dean started to eat his fish, he seemed more relaxed and his laughs were real. 

* * * 

They'd talked, they'd laughed, and Dean finally cleaned up. Once everything was in the trash or back in the cooler, and the cooler restocked with ice, Dean brought out the last treat. S'mores. He hadn't had s'mores since he was a kid, and then that was only because of a cookout at one of the babysitter's they'd stayed with. Spike was as baffled by s'mores as Dean was by 'vegemite' or 'marmite.' 

After Dean roasted a couple marshmallows and stuck them between chocolate and graham crackers, he could see Spike was interested in trying one, even as he was trying to feign disinterest. Once Dean had his fill, he made one up for Spike and 'convinced' Spike it was worth a try. Their eyes were locked on one another as Dean fed it to him, and they both made a very sticky mess of it all. 

Instead of going and getting a wet rag, Dean leaned down and licked the smear of chocolate from the corner of Spike's lips, then leaned down and licked up the graham cracker crumbs along Spike's neck before returning to lick away a bit more chocolate and marshmallow. He was going to wash his own hand free of the marshmallow remnants but Spike would have none of that. Slowly Spike cleaned his fingers free of the sticky marshmallow and chocolate and Dean was groaning as Spike's tongue worked over his hand, all but making love to it. Blood began to slowly work its way toward Dean's groin.

"That tongue of yours is magic," Dean moaned and, pulling his hand away, licked across Spike's lips, then slipped his tongue into the depths of Spike's mouth. The kiss was long and slow, but the fireworks were beginning to crackle between them and their kiss grew more heated. Dean's hands roamed along Spike's muscular arms, over his face, through his hair, and down his neck and shoulders.

It was frustrating as hell, being completely unable to run his hands over Dean, to touch him. His tongue might be magic, but every cell in Spike's body wanted to show the hunter his other _magical parts_. The way Dean touched him, sometimes in gentle caresses, sometimes groping him greedily, it was enough to make him want to be free of these bonds, to make him want to maul the hunter. A deep groan worked its way out of his throat. Spike pulled his head back. "Free one hand." With Dean's lips so close to his, he couldn't really see the hunter's expression but felt his hesitation. "One hand dammit, or tie it down lower. Want to touch you."

Dean kissed Spike then whispered in his ear, "No." 

Dipping his hand under the comforter Dean's fingers brushed over the steel hard abs. He pushed deeper and feeling the cold chill of metal, he froze. Slowly he pulled back the comforter and revealed Spike's flesh and the knife lying on his stomach. Dean stared at the knife cradled on that pale, unmarred flesh, his mouth going dry. He took a step back and shook his head, but his eyes never left that knife.

The angry demands at the tip of Spike's tongue never came. Just as Dean was enthralled by the knife, Spike was enthralled by Dean, his expression, the intensity of his focus and the sheer need reflected in every line of his body. It made Spike's cock surge with blood. "You're beautiful when you're fighting it," he said, understanding the pain, the battle storming inside the hunter. "Take it. Do it." He licked his lips and waited.

The desire pounded inside Dean, part of him refuting that need. Another part was desperate to carve into that white flesh as he made love to the man, wanting to hear the screams mixed in with the groans of pleasure and to feel the wetness of Spike's blood on his hands. Dean's gaze flicked to Spike's face, then back to the knife. Spike _wanted_ this. Dean _needed_ this. He picked up the knife and watched the light reflected on its blade, hearing the sounds of Hell in his mind. 

"One thing." Spike's voice broke the silence. He waited until Dean pulled his gaze from the knife and looked him in straight in the eyes. "Do what you want, but do it to _me._ Not to some faceless soul. To _me_. Promise me that."

Dean stared at Spike almost as if he hadn't heard him, or the words made no sense. "To you," Dean rasped and gave a jerky nod, his breathing beginning to increase in pace. "I can mark you in a way that will always be there. Do you want that?" 

"It better be pretty. And manly," Spike added, giving a nod. Marked by a human, _this_ human. He hoped it meant something to Dean, more than the pleasure of the act itself. It meant much more to Spike. "Mark me," he demanded, his voice raw with emotion. 

Dean almost growled at the thought of doing what he wanted, anything he wanted. Looking at the pocket knife, he cast it aside in disgust and went to his duffel. He pulled out a proper blade, a sharp dagger with a fine point. Returning to Spike's side he stripped down to bare skin. Slowly, he drew the dagger lightly over Spike's chest, not cutting flesh, just toying, feeling the ridges and troughs of muscles through the blade and handle of the knife. 

"So beautiful," Dean murmured. "So perfect." His mind began to think back to the souls he'd ravished and cut to shreds, feeling the desire to experience it again, but forcing himself to look up at Spike's face. This was Spike, _his_ Spike.

Dean dragged the dagger all the way down Spike's leg from hip to ankle, leaving a fine red line in the wake of the steel. He simply watched for a moment as the blood welled into drops that slowly trickled here and there down the side of Spike's leg. 

Dean tilted his head as if mesmerized, watching the crimson flow from the extremely shallow wound. He moved to Spike's feet and ran the tip of the dagger up and down Spike's right foot. The hunter in him railed against it. Spike had to be able to walk. _He heals fast,_ the dark voice inside him answered as he dug the blade in a little deeper and cut up Spike's foot, curving the wound so it crossed over his arch.

Being able to withstand pain didn't mean you didn't feel it. And pain, or fear of pain, amounted to risk. Risk of going too far. Risk of going places one or both of them would never return from. Risk of death.   
Spike tensed as the tip of the knife sliced a clean line down his leg. There wasn't much pain, but the way Dean was transfixed on the blood with almost a vampiric obsession, Spike was sure it was coming. He was right. His head jerked back as Dean unerringly found the most sensitive area of his foot, its arch which was rich with nerve endings, and sliced deep. A soft sound of pain passed his lips, but he held still, his own focus swinging to Dean's face. 

Dean heard Spike's soft whisper of pain and shut his eyes a moment, savoring the sound. He ran his thumb over the wound pressing hard, feeling the blood on his hand. _Delicious._ His eyes travelled slowly up Spike's body. Pleasure and pain, for both of them. He wiped the blade clean on the comforter and then licked up the sharp edge, slicing his tongue. He crawled onto the bed, straddling the vampire. Leaning in, he kissed the vampire, knowing that the wound on his tongue would close fast as most cuts on tongues did, but there was enough to tease the vampire, hopefully enough to bring him hard. 

The sight of blood on Dean's tongue had Spike trying to come off the bed to get to it as fast as he could, even though he knew it was for him. His tongue was inside Dean's mouth even before their lips met and he was sweeping the warm, sticky, tangy liquid into his own mouth. Groaning with sudden intense need, he pushed his tongue inside the wet hot heat of Dean's mouth again, stroking Dean's tongue, then sucking it into his mouth, sucking hard to coax more blood to well up. So fucking hot... how could a human be so dirty and sexy ... vampire style? The instant he felt Dean pulling back, he sucked again, hard, refusing to allow him to pull away.

Dean grinned at the reaction his bleeding tongue drew from Spike. When Spike was so intent on keeping their lips melded together to get to the blood, he plunged the dagger through Spike's palm. 

The sudden burning had Spike's entire body jerking, his head rising, his mouth bumping hard against Dean's as he cried out in shock. The hunter pulled away and Spike saw the dagger pinning his palm, blood pooling and dripping onto the bed. It was savage and brutal and familiar, so bleeding familiar. How many spikes had he put through people's palms? "N... not sure which of us is the poet," he rasped, his fingers curling slightly.

"My game. My rules," Dean practically crooned. "You get blood when I let you have it. When I stop, you let go or else I get rough and make a point about who's in control." Dean's lips curved into a smile. Pulling out the blade he put its bloodied steel against Spike's throat, then ripped the bandage off his own arm with his teeth. He held it up to Spike's mouth. "You can bite. You can drink." He pressed the tip of the blade lightly into the tender skin of Spike's throat. "Until I say stop."

For a long moment, Spike refused. It was a battle of wills and they both knew it. He wanted it, the hunter wanted it, but Spike was fighting it. His teeth pressed against Dean's wrist, aching, the need to bite down pushing the vampire to the end of his wits. It was only the sharp blade at his throat that kept him grounded, gave him a thread of control. He hung on, fought his demons for as long as he could, then his teeth extended and he bit into the hunter's flesh in almost exactly the same place he'd drank from before. With blood filling his mouth, he forgot everything else, moaning with need as he took from Dean, vaguely aware that bloodlust was lurking at the edges of his mind but eager to drink as much as he could while he was allowed. 

Dean hissed when he felt the teeth dig into his arm and felt his cock surge. He had been half-hard before, but now? He was as hard as the erection he felt against his backside. Dean watched Spike's face, saw the sheer pleasure as Spike greedily took what Dean offered. After a good thirty seconds, Dean spoke. "Stop," he said firmly, lightly pressing the blade against Spike, giving him motivation to cease. 

Snarling, Spike complied, retracting his fangs. But he continued to flick his tongue out, sweeping across the wound, lapping at the blood that continued to trickle out. He felt Dean's eyes on his, met them and saw both hot and cold in the hunter's eyes. He stopped licking, but made another demand. "Kiss me," he said, knowing his mouth and tongue was still slick with scarlet blood and that his body hadn't yet absorbed all of it. "Taste yourself on me. Want you to." The silence was unnerving. "Then touch me."

Dean was pleased Spike did as he was told. He chuckled at Spike's demands. "Now didn't we just have a discussion about who's in control?" He cut with the blade just below Spike's collar bone and groaned at seeing the blood spill from the wound. 

Leaning down he kissed Spike hungrily, licking at his own salty blood in Spike's mouth. He pressed his ass back against the leaking tip of Spike's hard cock tauntingly as he rubbed his own cock against Spike's stomach. His kiss grew more fevered, not permitting Spike the control the vampire kept trying to take. Finally he sat up, his cock hard and aching. Shifting himself to between Spike's legs, he drew a long line down the center of Spike's chest with the dagger, running his fingers through the blood. "So fucking hot," Dean breathed. 

Caught somewhere between pleasure and pain, Spike hissed and bit his lower lip. His chest rose and fell. His eyes pleaded for more, more of whatever the hunter would give him, more pressure, more touches, or... the thought of their blood slicked bodies moving against each other was enough to drive the vampire insane. 

Twisting suddenly, Dean reached down and sawed through the rope binding Spike's left leg, and then his right. He pushed Spike's thighs up and without warning or preparation, buried his cock fully inside the vampire's hole, letting out an intense cry of pleasure.

With his mind clouded by the scent and feel and taste of blood, and focused on the burning line in the center of his chest, Spike was not prepared to be partially freed, or to be breached so suddenly. Blinding pain had him bucking up and cursing even as his cock reacted to the sound of pleasure from Dean. "Fuck," he breathed, using his feet behind Dean to pull him forward, so Dean's stomach brushed against the underside of Spike's aching cock as he tried to get used to the sensation of the hunter's cock splitting him into two. He cursed again. It had been a long time, decades since he'd taken it in the arse. It burned, the burn was worse than the cuts on his body and rivaled the pain Dean had delivered to his palm. 

"You feel so good, look so hot," Dean said, his eyes closing a moment at the feel of Spike's tight hole clenching around his cock. Dean stayed buried inside as he ran his hands over Spike's body, cutting small gashes here and there, sometimes running his fingers through the thin sheet of blood.

Staring at Spike, the need to hurt, to possess and own, swelled inside Dean. "Mine," he growled as he ran his hands possessively over the body under him. Brushing his hands over Spike's cock, he occasionally wrapped his hand around Spike's shaft, sliding it up and down a few times before returning to caressing Spike's chest.

When he felt he'd given Spike enough time to adjust, Dean began to slowly rock his hips, making small little thrusts, just to get Spike used to him. He pulled out a bit more and shifted, searching out that sweet spot Spike had found inside him. When he got a sudden sharp reaction from Spike, he grinned. 

Leaning forward, he began speaking soft words in the dark tongue he had learned in Hell. He began deeply carving into Spike's right shoulder, the blade almost moving of its own accord as the wound began to glow fiery red, blood flowing freely. The symbol was a set of swirls with a few straight lines cutting across them and dots ringing part of those swirls. The straight lines met in a point where an crescent arched over the lines. Dean gave sharp intermittent thrusts into Spike as he carved, unerringly hitting Spike's prostate every time. 

Pleasure and pain, desire and fear, they rose and fell within Spike with every thrust of Dean's hips and every cut of his knife. His cries alternated between expressions of pain and demands for more, his legs clamping more tightly around Dean's body, forcing him closer, helping him drive his cock deeper, and shuddering when a cut was deeper than the last. He moved his head from side to side, his arms pushing upwards, trying to break free of the bonds. Dean's chanting brought with it new sensations. It was like acid burning the top layer of his skin and like freezing cold water calming the pain. He could smell burning flesh, though he knew there was none, he could feel flames erupting along the lines of the cuts and shouted Dean's name, his eyes glazing over as the flames died down again. He was ready to ask for mercy, and then the cycle would begin again, pleasure and pain, desire and fear....

Dean was lost in the spell as he cut and spoke and thrust, weaving a complex web of shadows of Hell, of reality, of lust and love. He completed the rune, then buried the knife in Spike's other shoulder and pulled it crosswise down to his hip. It was a deep cut, but not to the bone, not into the gut. He set the knife aside as the words faded from his lips and he ran both hands through the blood on Spike's chest, spreading it. He lifted one hand and ran his tongue in a long stroke across his palm. So damned sweet. 

Leaning forward, Dean trapped Spike's cock with his body and locked his lips over Spike's. The blood was slick between their bodies as he began to piston in and out of that tight velvet cave, his cries growing in volume as he grew closer and closer to release. His kisses grew fevered and brutal, taking everything he could, their tongues at war, their lips bruising, their teeth clinking. Like a blast of fire, pleasure ravaged him, carrying him higher than he thought he could ever reach again. He broke the kiss and threw back his head as he shouted Spike's name to the heavens, his cum exploding inside Spike as he spasmed again and again.

 _Dean. Dean. Dean._ The name echoed in Spike's mind and then erupted from his lips once Dean broke the kiss. "God... bloody fucking hell," he ground out, his eyes rolling back slightly as Dean came deep inside him, pushing him over the edge as well. Spike's entire body gave a violent shudder, eyes closing against the acute pleasure as he rode the waves of his climax. Wet heat gushed and spread between them, across their stomachs, mixing with the blood coating him. Spike opened his eyes and tried to focus, snarling as he tried to free himself. "Hold me," he demanded, unable to close his own arms around Dean but needing the contact. Lifting his head, gaze on Dean's mouth, he let out a moan as his lover lowered over him and their mouths crushed together, tongues instantly tangling and sweeping him into another long, heated kiss. 

Dean wanted the kiss to go on forever, wanted everything to go on forever, the feelings of pleasure, the feelings of love, the feelings of...peace. The voices and screams in his head had finally quieted. He didn't know how long it would be before the memories swelled back over him as if to drown him in an ocean of despair but at this moment, Spike was everything he needed.

The need for air finally made him break his kiss. Spike had milked every last bit he could from him and he had done his best to return the favor, sliding his body over Spike's cock. He reached out for the knife and found it at Spike's side. Grasping it, he slowly pulled his limp cock free of Spike with a soft moan. He gave Spike another kiss, a silent reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere, then crawled up Spike's body far enough to cut the ropes that held Spike's arms. He moved back down, between Spike's legs, the knife set aside again as he braced himself on either side of Spike's body and looked at his handiwork. The small nicks were practically healed, the deeper one crossing Spike's chest was about half-healed, and Spike's shoulder... Re-balancing himself he lightly ran his fingers over the healing flesh, wiping away some of the blood. It was apparent that a red 'tattoo' would be left when Spike's body healed, maybe with a hint of scar tissue underneath.

Freed, Spike gave Dean a questioning look and half sat up, propping himself on his elbows. As Dean spoke, his attention was drawn to Dean's face and he paid rapt attention to everything the hunter said in that husky voice of his.

"The rune has a lot of meanings," Dean said quietly. "It indicates strength and power, tells others that you have a relationship with another. 'Relationship' can mean anything from someone owning your soul, to being in love, to deep kinship, to having a mortal enemy. It's kept loosely defined so the relationship can't be used against one another. It will make any demon re-consider laying a hand on you, they being unable to determine what the specifics of that rune might mean and who it's connected to. There's no lingering magic, or dark ties, or anything. But it's branded on your body and your soul. There is a simple ritual that can erase it, a few words, a silver blade, and cutting an 'X' through it. Hurts less than when you get it. If you don't like it," Dean chewed on his bottom lip a minute then gave a sharp nod, "I'll teach you how to remove it. Only you or I can remove it though." His gaze finally shifted from the healing wound to Spike's eyes. Softly Dean asked him, "Are you okay?"

"I am. Okay," Spike answered equally softly, "let's see your handiwork," he added, looking down at his shoulder. The excess blood that hadn't been wiped away was already being absorbed by his body. It was strange, seeing a mark, something permanent, on his flesh. "It's like an arrow, or a shooting star moving through the Milky Way," he mused out loud, internally connecting that up to thoughts of arrows piercing a heart.   
Licking his lips, Spike looked up and met Dean's gaze again. "I won't be needing any removal spell. I'll be keeping it," he said, balancing on one elbow and stroking Dean's face with one hand. "What... what kind of relationship do you mean for it to signify?" he asked. "Not trying to trap you or box you in, just want to know what's in your head. You... you said 'mine.' Was that _your_ bloodlust talking," he asked, feeling his heart constrict as he half expected the same response Dean had given him before, about using him, or being unsure. There was another fear too, a worry, one he wouldn't name just yet, not even to himself. 

Dean rolled his head to press firmer against Spike's touch. "I wanna believe that things'll work between us. Something more permanent," Dean said quietly. "But I'm a realist, too. Winchester luck sucks ass, especially when it comes to love." A bitterness edged his laugh. "You'd probably be a helluva lot safer never seeing me again. 

"We've only known each other for about a week. Half of it was kinda like Hell on Earth, and half of it has been the best damned vacation of my life." Dean ran his hand along Spike's face, mirroring the way Spike was touching him. "I haven't felt so," Dean searched for the right word and was shocked when he realized what it was, " _happy,_ maybe not ever, than I do now. I said 'mine' because..." Dean took a deep breath. He wasn't good at the whole bare-my-innermost-feelings thing. He was already being more emo than Sam on one of his good days, but he could tell he couldn't dodge this. Spike needed to hear it. "...that's what I want. You. In a month we may wanna kill each other. But right now? I want you to stay with me." 

He met Spike's gaze, his eyes turning a little hard. "I'm on the road. I hunt with my brother. And we've got this damned apocalypse to stop. I'm not gonna stay in one place. If you want this, you and me, then...you gotta come with me. If you don't wanna come with, I get it."

"You've got me. For as long as you'll have me," Spike said. Dean had his ideas about the Winchester bad luck with love, but Spike also had his own ideas about how love turned out for himself. He was loyal, his love unshakable, love's little bitch-boy until his loves tossed him aside. It always happened, that day always came and always hurt. He was prepared for it, because in the end, it was always worth the risk. Always. 

"I'll come with you," he kissed Dean. "We'll stop your apocalypse." He kissed him again, "do whatever it takes, yeah?" A smile formed on his lips. "And I'll tell you when you need a shower. Dean Winchester, you need a shower, right now. With me," he added, pulling himself out of bed and grasping Dean's hand to drag him out. His own body was now clean of blood, but Dean's wasn't and it seemed the old blood, even his own, bothered Spike now.

That dark hole inside Dean, it wasn't gone, but it was eased. He really was happy. Happy the voices had quieted, happy he felt a little more like a person rather than a shadow, happy that Spike said he would join him. If Spike had said 'no,' said Dean had to stay with him, Dean thought just maybe he would have. At least for a little while until his concern for his brother became more than he could handle and Spike's love couldn't chase it away. He knew Spike loved him: complete, unconditional love. He didn't feel worthy of it, no way, no how, but Spike knew what he had been and didn't care. Just like Dean knew what Spike was. They still had to beat Spike's bloodlust, and maybe with Spike's help, he could beat his need to hurt. Though he wasn't sure how much Spike would try to help him with that since he seemed to enjoy it. Dean understood that as well. He was pleased that Spike didn't have to pull out the 'safe word,' that Spike didn't have to stop him and mostly that he hadn't gotten carried away. 

Dean chuckled at Spike's declaration that he needed at bath. Looking down at himself, Spike was right. He was cum covered and blood practically coated half his body. That bothered him for a moment. Blood. Spike's blood. It was _consensual_ he reminded himself. Just like he had told Spike that Spike could bite him, Spike had told him he could use the knife. That definitely made him feel less like a monster, even if it did still feel wrong.

In the bathroom Spike turned the water on and waited for it to warm. "You're a bloody mess," he said, leaning toward the sink to look in the mirror at Dean's handiwork on his own body. He ran his index finger over the rune tattoo, still fascinated by the fact he could see himself and it in the mirror.

"You're the one who exploded like a fire hose between us," Dean said. He turned Spike to face him, running his red-stained hands over Spike's chest. "I can't believe how fast you heal." Pulling Spike into a sudden hug, he buried his face in the crook of Spike's neck, breathing in the scent of the vampire as he just hung on to him for a minute. He cleared his throat and finally stepped away. "Okay, enough chick-flick," he muttered. "And no cracks about bubblegum and pink ribbons."

Reaching into the shower Dean adjusted the water temperature to his liking and stepped inside, holding his hand out to help Spike in to join him.

Spike made no jokes, but he couldn't hide his smirk. Or the fact that he was happy. The water pouring down Dean's body was scarlet with his blood, which pooled at their feet before going down the drain. Taking the soap, Spike hastened the process, washing Dean off quickly, then more slowly, soaping his clean golden skin, scrubbing his back and shoulders, and arms, his chest and stomach. "A little blood and hard sex might be the antidote to bloodlust," he mused, leaning in and sucking on Dean's throat hard enough to leave a bruise. "Did I thank you for your blood donation?"  
Dean couldn't deny he enjoyed the way Spike caressed his body with the soap, first with a quick efficient once over, then he practically made love to him with it. Dean was "mmming" his enjoyment of the hot water, of the touch of Spike's hands following after the soap. When Spike's mouth went to his throat he simply tilted his head to give the vampire all the access he wanted.

_"Why do you trust her?" Dean demanded of Sam._

_"Because she saved my life," Sam answered._

Was it any different, Dean wondered. Spike had proven himself trustworthy as far as Dean was concerned. Yeah, there was still the pesky bloodlust that he wasn't sure Spike had under control, but Spike seemed to know when it was coming on him, with the exception of when Dean cut himself, and had otherwise been able to give Dean warning. He didn't like the idea that he had his own bloodlust, but he did and Spike recognized it and understood it. Just like he understood Spike's. It was different. Vastly different. But it was also the same.

"You're welcome. Let's try to give me a few days though before I have to make any more significant donations though, huh?" Dean said turning in Spike's arms and kissing him. "So no going all bloodlusty for awhile. And maybe while you're not hungry it would be a good time to hit a blood bank and see how you do with doggie bags." Looking deep into Spike's eyes he gave a small shake of his head. "The voices, the screams, the memories of Hell, they're quiet right now." He pulled Spike against him, holding him tightly in his arms. "You can't imagine how it is to suddenly have that sort of peace. I don't feel like I'm going mad with guilt and shame and agony. I don't like what I had to do to get it, I don't like that I had to hurt you, but thank you. I guess it's that way for you, isn't it? Something that gnaws at you and until it's quenched, it eats you up inside." 

"Same, yeah," Spike nodded. "Pleasure and pain," he said and ran his finger over the closed wound on Dean's throat, then kissed it. "I'm not feeling guilty. Be like me, not like my broody-pants grandsire. No one needs extra guilt to carry about when there's enough real things to worry about." He put his hand over Dean's mouth. "Not an invitation to argue. I know you can't force yourself to feel one way or another. Just a thought, something to bounce around in your head. Might make sense to you sometime." "I'm glad I can make the sounds go quiet. I'd be jealous of anyone else who could."

"I didn't think anyone or anything could ever ease the things I feel. I've wished a hundred times over that I couldn't feel anything at all. Could never figure out how I could hurt so bad inside when there didn't seem to be anything inside me but this great big empty hole where my soul used to be." Dean was silent a moment then looked at Spike with a furrowed brow. " _Broody-pants?_ I'm gonna have to meet this grandsire of yours. Grandsire. That means he turned the one who turned you, right? Like a grandpa or something. So what's his name? And the one who turned you? Is your sire still around?" He felt a twinge of jealousy and kinda hoped the vamp wasn't. 

"Angel. I told you a bit about him before, he's the one who was sent to a hell dimension," Spike answered, trying to read Dean's expression. "My 'sire,' Drusilla, she's ... she was dusted." He looked down for a moment. "Dru, me, Angel and Darla... the Scourge of Europe, there you have it. Now, enough history. Let's see if I can fill up this great big empty place of yours," he whispered, his hand sliding down the center of Dean's back to the cleft of his ass. Liking the idea more by the second, he pulled Dean up hard against him and locked their mouths together in a heated kiss. 

"I think you're lying about the railroad spikes. I think the _real_ reason they call you Spike is because you're always hot for sex," Dean said rolling his eyes a little, but before he could say anything more, Spike was kissing him and everything else went out of his head.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean yawned and opened his eyes. Glancing at the clock he saw he had slept for a couple hours. Spike was sprawled on top of him. At least he never had to worry about Spike snoring, he thought with amusement. Crap, he was starved, his stomach rumbling in agreement at the idea of food. And he needed to shower. Again. 

He kissed Spike's neck, nipping lightly. "Dude. Lemme up." 

"Like you under me," Spike answered, rolling off and sitting up, cursing when the handcuff chaining only one of his wrists made it a bit difficult. He'd told Dean he wouldn't fall asleep, and if he felt the onset of any issues, he'd let him know. Dean had the deadman's blood ready too, the dagger just beyond Spike's reach. "It's the middle of the night, you should sleep more. Didn't I tire you out enough?" Reaching over to the night stand, he turned the light on and looked back at Dean.

"I'm hungry," Dean said. "You seriously worked up my appetite is what you did. I'm gonna get a quick shower, since I seem to need one again," he gave Spike a mild glare, "then I'm gonna run to the diner and get a burger and some onion rings." He smacked his lips in anticipation. "And after that? You and me, we're gonna curl up and I'll get some real sleep."

"Order a pizza." 

"Too late for pizza. Besides, I want a burger. I'll call ahead and get it to go. You wanna come?" Dean asked, stretching, then walking toward the bathroom. 

Spike's mouth flattened into a line. "I can't let you do that. Not until tomorrow, unless you want to..." he lifted his cuffed hand up, "be chained to me."

Dean frowned, pausing at the bathroom door. One look at Spike told him Spike was completely serious. "Why the hell not?" Concern suddenly filled his eyes. "Are you having trouble?" he asked stepping toward Spike. "Does it feel like the bloodlust is coming back? Being cuffed to you wouldn't exactly be an A-1 idea. I can use the ropes on you again. I won't be gone more than fifteen minutes. I swear." 

"No, it's not me Dean." He paused, wishing Dean would have slept through the night. "It's you. It wouldn't be a problem if I hadn't changed into this, whatever sort of vampire I am." 

Still, Dean looked at Spike blankly. 

"You licked my blood off your hand," Spike said finally. Though Spike found it difficult to believe, Dean himself had told him that the type of vampire he seemed to be changing into had highly infectious blood and could turn someone just by feeding them a few drops of it. 

Dean stared at Spike, the memory of tasting Spike's sweet blood filtering through the bloodlust, sex-filled haze of everything they'd done. He gave a brief nod. "I'm going to shower," he said quietly and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

He'd vamped himself. He'd fucking vamped himself. It wasn't bad enough he had all the memories of what he had done in Hell, but now, now he was going to be a danger to everyone around him. He had little doubt he would kill. All that anger and pain still in him from Hell? He'd rip people to shreds after he fed on them. Maybe torture them like Spike used to do.

Almost mechanically he turned on the shower and as soon as it was warm enough he stepped inside and quickly washed himself off. Spike couldn't eat real food, not much anyhow. He wanted a cheeseburger and onion rings dammit. If that was the last thing he was going to ever be able to eat, that's what Dean wanted.

Drying himself off, he came out and dressed, then called information to get the "Betsy's Grille" phone number. He called and placed the order, telling them where he was driving from. Retrieving the key to the cuffs, he freed Spike, then took one of the cuffs and placed it on his own wrist. "Get dressed. I'll drive. You cuff me to the steering wheel when we get there. All you gotta do is go in and pay for it. If I start to turn, use the dagger on me. I'll keep a dagger with me in case you start to have trouble. Think you can get back to the car if you feel like you're having trouble?" Dean said coolly as he dipped the dagger into some more deadman's blood.

Immediately getting up, Spike nodded. "We'll manage." In silence, he dressed quickly and put his boots on. Then he slapped Dean on the back and headed for the door, sensing anything he said now would be too much. That the hunter wanted or needed quiet. Besides, whatever he said would be supposition, and if he told Dean he had a feeling everything would be fine, he was likely to get his head snapped off. He'd risk it, but really, he didn't think his words would comfort. The truth of it was, they just had to make it until morning. If only Dean didn't have worms in his stomach and had slept through the bleedin' night.

Spike got in the car, stole a glance at a very stoic looking Dean, then looked out the window. If it did happen, he'd help Dean deal with it. It was one of the reason's Dean's answer about their relationship had been so important to him. If there was nothing between them, then a vamped Dean might have nothing, no one to hold onto. Now, now Spike would and could be there for him. He didn't know what the sire/child relationship was like for these different vampires, but he couldn't feel closer to Dean if Dean were his child. 

They were going at a high speed and covering a lot of ground. Spike knew there were many places they could have stopped but again, he made no comment. This might be what the hunter needed to clear his head. He'd let him have it, have whatever he needed.

Dean finally pulled in to the diner. He had originally planned to just go to the one they'd eaten at before, but a long while back he'd eaten at a Betsy's Grill one town over and remembered they'd had awesome burgers and onion rings and this kick ass strawberry pie, and that their chocolate shakes were just fantastic. And maybe, he just needed to drive and not think about his future as a vamp. He didn't have a fucking clue what he was going to do. He was really kinda surprised he hadn't already turned. From what he had seen, it usually didn't take all that long. He should already be getting the hearing and vision like he was on the best high of his life, but he didn't feel any different.

Wordlessly he handed Spike forty dollars, the car keys, and key to the cuffs. He put the cuff on the steering wheel and closed it. As Spike was getting ready to get out he finally said, "Make sure to get ketchup. A lot of ketchup. And make sure they put a fork in there for the pie. And a spoon and straw for the shake."

"And onions, right." Spike understood the ritual. Dean was saying goodbye to food, among other things. "I'll only be a moment." With that, he got out of the car and headed right for the entrance, turning once to see Dean slumped over the wheel. Mouth tightening, he walked inside and made bloody sure he got the order right and so did the staff.

When he returned, he knocked on Dean's window and waited for the hunter to roll it down. "There are tables," he said nodding toward the outside seating that was free of people due to the hour and the chill in the air. "Have your hamburger while it's hot, there or in the car."

Dean gave Spike a grateful if shaky smile. "The tables. Unlock me. Gimme my keys and I'll get a coat out of the trunk. And get us some coffee since we'll be sitting outside. You want one?"

"Yeah, I'll have one." Reaching inside, Spike unlocked the cuff that was attached to the steering wheel. He didn't say anything but a look passed between them, Dean understanding that he'd have to cuff him to the table if he was going to leave him outside alone while he got the coffees. 

A few moment later, Spike found himself cuffing Dean to the umbrella pole in the center of the table. "Remind me to talk to you about role-playing with me as the cop, yeah?" Leaving Dean with that thought, he walked to the diner to put in the orders for coffee.

* * *

Dean awoke in Spike's arms, seeing the golden light frame the drawn drapes and a glance at the clock telling him it was mid-morning. He shifted and felt the metal of the cuff bite into his left wrist. Spike wasn't the one cuffed this time, he was. He didn't think he would have the control Spike had shown and insisted on being cuffed. He did have a sheathed dagger on the bed under a pillow with deadman's blood on it, just in case Spike lost it. They both knew it was far more likely that Dean would be the dangerous one though.

Running his tongue over his gum line, nothing felt different. He reached up with his free hand and pressed and prodded, hunting for fangs. Nothing. He was still human! Exhaling in relief, he looked up to see Spike watching him and suddenly felt self conscious and pulled his fingers out of his mouth. 

"No fangs," Dean said. "I think I'm safe. Craving donuts and coffee, not blood."

Spike hid a grin. "No fangs. I'd have released you earlier but you look..." He didn't have to tell Dean how tempting he looked. Running his hand up along Dean's, to the cuff, he unlocked it, freeing him. "Once you fell asleep, you slept like the dead. No dreams," he noted. 

"You've got a real bondage kink, don't you?" Dean smirked. He thought for a moment. "You're right, I don't remember having any dreams. Huh, maybe I need to sleep in cuffs every night..." he let his voice trail off and after looking at Spike he shook his head. "No, uh-uh, no way, I was joking."

"No, I've got a Dean kink," Spike drawled. "You must be happy this morning, yeah? Which means one of those grand slam breakfasts of yours with triple bacon and six eggs and pancakes, yeah? Pancakes," he nodded, "donuts and fruit, must have something healthy with it. I make great pancakes," he added. "You'd never guess, right? Made them for Bit all the time because the Slayer's cooking," he gave a woeful shake of his head. 

Dean chuckled at Spike. "Dean kinks are good. And yeah, I guess I am. Well, actually that sounds better than donuts. Two eggs though. And toast. And skip the fruit. I'll do orange juice..." His mind flashed back to the orange juice they were served after assembly and the vampire house. "No, strike that. No juice. I'll just stick with coffee."

After giving Spike a short kiss, he sat up, swung his legs off the bed and stretched, then rubbed his wrist that had been bound. "No, I wouldn't expect a vampire that doesn't eat to be able to cook worth a damned. Bit? What's a Bit?" 

"Eh? I just told you, Buffy's little sister. Her name is Dawn but she's a small thing, or was when I first met her so I called her Bit. Your little brother plays his cards right and I might make some for him." He rubbed Dean's back and neck, watching his profile. "We're not driving for miles before you find the perfect breakfast place, are we?" He recalled the long trek for a burger the night before and what was definitely not funny then was funny to him now.

"The Slayer has a sister? No, you never told me," Dean said, closing his eyes, enjoying the massage. "Ah, little brother is the health nut. He'd probably want all wheat pancakes or something." He jabbed Spike lightly in the ribs with his elbow. "It wasn't that far away. We'll just go to the local diner. Then I think we oughta hit the hospital or blood bank or whatever is closest and see if you can do doggie bags. You got a preference on blood type? And don't say Dean."

"De--" He snapped his mouth shut when Dean called him on what would have been his answer. Spike would rather joke than think about feeding at the moment, or rather feeding on anything other than live human blood, preferably the hunter's. As the thought crossed his mind, his middle and ring finger fingers paused over Dean's pulse point on the side of his throat. Yeah, Dean was right, he should feed, it would be safer that way. "I don't think they label 'virgin' as a type." 

Dean chuckled but with Spike's two fingers on his pulse, he knew what Spike desired. "And I bet you can't taste a difference between virgin and not. C'mon get dressed. Unless you tell me I need a shower," Dean said, twisting his head and engaging Spike in a slow loving kiss. He slapped Spike's hand away from his groin. "I want to get to the diner before suppertime," he murmured but knew it wouldn't take a lot of encouragement on Spike's part to keep him in bed for a few more hours. He could always order a pizza later he supposed...

Immediately, Spike closed one arm around Dean's waist to prevent him from getting up, held him there for a moment before his hand drifted right back down over Dean's shorts, biting his lip when he felt Dean start to get hard. He slid his other hand over Dean's shoulder to his throat, then up to his face, pulling lightly to bring him closer. "Won't take long. Then you'll need a shower," he whispered, moving his mouth over Dean's ear and nipping his ear lobe. 

In this position, Spike had all the access he needed while it was awkward for Dean to try to touch him. He squeezed and rubbed Dean's cock in gentle rolling motions. "And good morning to you."

"Oh, fuck," Dean murmured, Spike's touch eliciting an immediate reaction from his body. He tried to reach back to return the favor but the way Spike held him, he couldn't do anything. He wrapped his arm over top of the one Spike had at his waist. His other hand went overhead to run his fingers through Spike's hair. Dean moaned and tried to press his hips up so Spike's hand put more pressure on his cock, but Spike's hold was absolute iron. 

"Ungh...harder, more," Dean groaned, feeling frustration at not being able to do anything but tug on Spike's hair.

A sharp thrill ran through Spike. He teased a little more, moving his hand lower, to Dean's inner thigh, then sweeping it back up, this time under Dean's shorts through the pant leg. "What was it you said? My game. My rules?" Smirking, he started to play Dean's body like an instrument, touching him in all the places, all the ways he'd learned turned the hunter on the most. His thumb teased Dean's nipples, then he pinched, and rubbed it better again. He kissed his ear again and again, briefly invading Dean's mouth or licking across it but refusing to either engage or accept Dean's tongue into his own mouth. "If you had turned, you know you could fight me over this, human," he taunted. "Bloody hell... the sounds you make," he groaned as Dean thrashed in his arms and let out those low sounds that drove Spike insane.

Spike's words barely penetrated Dean's mind as Spike worked him over. Damn, what the vampire could to do him. It annoyed the hell out of him that he was weaker than Spike, that he couldn't take control. Maybe it bothered him a little too, because he'd had no control in Hell, but he'd also never had these sorts of pleasures in Hell. 

"Just wait...until I...lay my hands on...deadman's blood," Dean panted, trying to arch against Spike's maddening touches and unable to do anything. "Ngh," he moaned as coherent thought pretty much left him. He couldn't do anything but react and respond to the vampire's touches.

Making a sound that reflected his dislike of that solution, Spike redoubled his efforts, pulling Dean closer suddenly and turning onto his side so that he could press his cock up against Dean's arse and lower back. Each time Dean jerked or raised his hips or thrashed, he ground against Spike's cock, making Spike grow hard, his cock throbbing with need. As desire pulsed through his body, he finally kissed Dean, moaning at the way Dean's tongue moved furiously in his mouth, signaling the hunter's frustration and igniting Spike's blood.

Practically snarling, Spike pulled his hand out of Dean's shorts, tugged the material roughly down to his thighs and dragged Dean's body completely over his own as he rolled onto his back. With preternatural speed, he'd pushed his own shorts down so his rock hard cock was nestled between Dean's ass cheeks. Closing his hand around Dean's cock, he started to stroke up and down, his own feet flat on the bed so that when he raised his hips, both of them lifted up off the bed. 

Dean almost expected Spike to just shove into him, taking what he wanted, but Spike didn't. The way Spike lifted them both and stroked him turned him on in ways he didn't expect. Feeling Spike's hard cock between his ass cheeks, feeling the pre-cum make it slide easier, inflamed his desires. He suddenly wished Spike was in him, but he knew without lube it would be difficult and painful and there was no way in hell they were stopping. The desire to feel Spike's teeth in his flesh was growing but he had already given up a lot of blood to Spike and wasn't sure how much more he could safely give him. Fuck it. He didn't care, it felt so damned good.

Between his grunts and groans of pleasure and desire, Dean finally panted out, "Take what you want." He realized then that he would do anything for Spike. Anything Spike wanted, he would give him. Spike was like an addiction and filled his soul up in ways he never imagined could ever be filled again.

Spike's eyes closed against the raw need Dean's offer provoked. His teeth ached, his body raged with hunger and his mind was a swirl of the color red. He gritted his teeth together and spoke through them. "Don't. Endanger. Yourself." Anger fueled his need. He started moving harder, faster, lifting both of them, groaning as drops of pre-cum dripped over his fingers and made his hand glide more smoothly over Dean's shaft. To take his mind off the darker needs Dean had stirred, he concentrated harder on caressing and touching the hunter in ways that would push him closer to the edge. A part of him feared losing control, feared it so much he wanted to bring them to completion as quickly as he could.

Endanger himself. Dean was so used to being used, to no one thinking of his own 'well-being' in Hell, the words surprised and touched him. He wasn't in Hell anymore. He was alive, free from Alistair and Lilith and all the others. The way Spike was working him, he actually felt alive on the outside and the way he knew Spike loved him, made him feel alive on the inside. He felt as if he could go on and fight whatever it was he had to fight so long as Spike was with him.

Spike's hand moved up to Dean's throat, stroking and touching, groaning at the strong pulse under his palm. Moving his thumb back and forth over Dean's lips, he pushed it inside his mouth, weaving in and out, groaning again as Dean sucked on it. "Come," he demanded, milking Dean's cock, forcing him to give him what he wanted now, right now. 

Spike's moving thumb was almost like he was battling Spike's tongue. The vampire's demand to come made him suck on the thumb like he had Spike's cock in his mouth. He began thrusting harder, more erratically until his thrusts were counter to Spike's lifting, pressing back when Spike lifted and thrusting forward when Spike fell. The vampire's touch was sheer fire everywhere their skin touched. Dean grunted and groaned and practically whimpered as Spike increased the pace and pressure on his cock. It was sudden, it was explosive, as cum shot free of him in thick ropes and he groaned around Spike's thumb with pleasure. He felt the warm liquid coat his back and Spike whispered his name, that one word filled with such need as to touch his soul.

Spike continued to pump him through his orgasm, milking every last drop from him as the waves of pleasure shook his body. "Jesus," Dean panted.

"Spike. Name's Spike. Don't like it when you're thinking of other men when you're with me," Spike rasped, his hand moving gently over Dean's softening cock, then rolling both of them onto their sides so he could rock more firmly against Dean's ass, riding the last waves of his own release. "Now you need a shower," he smirked. "Me too." Even though his body would quickly absorb their spunk, he decided not to forgo the opportunity to mess around a bit more. "But you have to promise to be a smart hamburger and not tempt the vampire." He'd lost his anger, but wanted to make sure he got his point across.

Dean gave a breathless laugh. "If I didn't tempt you, you wouldn't have stayed," Dean said. He turned in Spike's arms, glad Spike finally let him move. "And just remember, it's gonna be tit-for-tat. You played hunter this time. Next time it's my turn, my game, or I'll deadman's blood your ass. Or maybe," even with the haze of post sex, Dean's eyes sparkled, "I just won't let you drink from me anymore."

He rolled Spike over on his back and ran his tongue slowly up Spike's abs and chest, right through the cum. He decided he rather liked the flavor. There was a salty tang to it that he hadn't tasted before. "You taste different," Dean murmured as he licked away at Spike's chest, pausing teasingly over his nipples, running his tongue around and around it until he latched on and sucked. His fingers went to Spike's other nipple and toyed with it. He realized that the cum was disappearing, being absorbed by Spike's body. 

"That's not fair," Dean groused and crawled up to kiss Spike. It was a slow kiss as he toyed with Spike's nipple with one hand, while his tongue thrust into Spike's mouth and tangled with Spike's. When Spike tried to take control, Dean pulled away. "Anyone ever tell you you're a control freak?"

Planting a final light kiss on Spike's lips he crawled off the man and stood up and looking down at himself, chuckled. "You're right. I do need a shower. Wanna join me?" When Spike took his offered hand Dean yanked him out of bed and to his feet, right into Dean's arms. Looking down into those beautiful blue eyes, a small but genuine smile played on his lips. "Now don't go taking this the wrong way or anything but," he leaned in and whispered in Spike's ear, "I think I love you."

Like. Care for. Friend. Want to be with. Those were the words and phrases Spike expected from Dean. Not love, not yet, maybe not ever. He stilled, swallowing, knowing he couldn't have heard wrong but prevent himself from questioning his sense of hearing nevertheless. He pulled back, so he could look into Dean's face and make sure he wasn't being teased. 

"There isn't one. A wrong way of taking that," Spike finally responded, covering Dean's mouth with his and kissing him breathless as he molded Dean's body close, so bleeding close that his body might be imprinted on Dean's. Only the realization that Dean needed to breathe had him breaking the kiss. "Love you too, and you can take that any way you choose," he said, backing Dean slowly toward the bathroom but unable to take his hands off him.

* * *

The manager at the diner directed them to a hospital a town over when Dean asked, though there was a clinic in town. They figured they might as well check the clinic out since it was the closest. Dean told Spike he would keep the staff busy and Spike could check out whether they had blood on hand. Dean realized, having a new body and all, that he probably could use a tetanus shot, considering all the wounds he ended up with in his line of work. He sweet-talked the nurse and caught the doctor's attention while Spike used his vampiric speed to get by them and back to the supplies.

Dean shrugged out of his coat and his flannels, just leaving his t-shirt on, to make it easy for the doctor to give him the tetanus shot. He winced when he saw the still healing bite Spike had put on his arm. 

Dr. Jergens was a man in his mid-fifties. After he gave Dean the shot, he examined the bite on Dean's arm wordlessly then his gaze went up to Dean's neck. After he pushed the shirt aside, he found another bite wound there and shook his head. "So you're one a them," he drawled in a thick Southern accent.

"One of them what?" Dean asked starting to pull his flannels back on and eyeing the doctor with a cross between suspicion and curiosity.

The doctor stopped Dean. "Lemme give you a shot of iron, boy, if you're gonna be foolish enough to go down to Evans Lane and let them drink ya."

Dean frowned a little. He debated about playing along but then decided not to because he really wanted to know what the doctor knew. "What's on Evans Lane?"

The doctor pulled out another filled syringe. "This has vitamins and iron in it. Iffen you're gonna be one of them, what do they call them? Yeah, 'blood dolls,' that's it, then you need to come in weekly or at least every couple weeks to get a supplement shot."

Dean's eyes narrowed, remembering Spike using that term. "You've got vampires here?" he asked bluntly.

The doctor shrugged. "Yeah, they run that antique shop down on Baker, but I don't understand y'alls fascination with letting them drink from ya. And what are you gettin' yer boxers in a twist fer, boy? I know vampire bites when I see 'em."

Dean was a little speechless at first, but decided if the doctor knew about vampires maybe he could tell Dean something that might help Spike. "I haven't been down there. This is from...someone else. Those vamps, they ever drink blood like from a blood bank, or animal blood?"

The doctor frowned as he put bandaids over the places he had given Dean the shots. "They've been here a long time. I know they keep cows, but that's their alternative to feeding on 'dolls' as far as I know. They haven't come knocking on my door for blood donations, so I'd be guessing they only take blood from the living." The doctor paused and gave Dean a hard look. The man didn't look like a blood doll. He looked more like...but then why did he have vampire bites? "Iffen you got any ideas about hurtin' them, the town will take exception to you being a hunter, boy. They're part of the town and we protect our own. They've done a lot for the town through the years, found lost kids, rescued folk from fires, helped clean up when mother nature roars through our town like she's wont to do at times."

*

By the time Dean came out to the hall outside the waiting room, Spike was wearing down the tile floors with his impatient pacing. "Bonding with the GP?" He gave Dean a surly look and strode out, more disturbed by the knowledge that he was about to have to drink the blood. What was once an easy thing, something he looked forward to, was now distasteful and tore up his insides. 

He barely spared Dean a look until they reached the car and he was at the door, on the passenger side, looking at the hunter over the roof. "It's not going to work, I already feel..." his expression made it clear how much he didn't want to do this.

Dean met Spike's gaze. "You have to try. This is human blood, Spike. Not animal. Just like you'd get from anyone if you bit them. Maybe this type of vampire just needs the biting part to make it okay. If that's the case, I know you can beat that. C'mon, let's go back to the motel and I'm just asking you to try to drink this blood. For me. We both know I don't have enough blood in me to keep you going. We've got to find you something to supplement it in between times. We have to."

With an encouraging nod Dean slid behind the wheel of the car and waited for Spike to get in. Spike looked pissy as hell and Dean sighed. Maybe he ought to get the vampire pink ribbons if he was going to have mood swings like a chick. He knew Spike was just hungry though so he kept the wisecrack to himself. 

*

When they reached the motel Dean asked, "Want me to heat some up for you?"

"No." Storming inside, Spike pulled the bags of blood out from inside pockets of his trench coat, slapped them onto the nightstand, then sat down on the unmade bed. "Don't bother," he amended, "and don't mind me, yeah." He raised a hand up to say he was fine and to just leave him alone for a moment. Was he hungry? He didn't even know anymore whether the gnawing in the pit of his stomach was hunger or disgust. It was all the same, except when he was taking human blood, fresh. And he couldn't ask Dean for it again.

He let a few moments pass before grabbing one of the bags, and bringing the corner to his mouth. His gaze went to Dean's for a moment as his fangs extended over the plastic and he clamped his teeth town tearing it open. A thick musty scent had his stomach roiling, right off the bat.

Dean didn't know what to say to Spike. His own need, his 'addiction' to hurting others wasn't the same as Spike's. Spike needed blood to live. If everything Spike drank that wasn't from a live human made him sick, he couldn't expect Spike to drink it. But dammit, other vamps had learned to live on cow blood. Spike had lived on it for a decade. But if this didn't work, he didn't know what they were going to do. He felt deep jealousy well up in him at the thought of Spike feeding from anyone else. Spike just had to keep trying. Maybe if his body saw it wasn't going to get fresh blood, if he got hungry enough, it would adjust. Faith. I just have to have faith Spike can get through this, can make this work. 

Dean practically held his breath as he watched Spike.

Lips pressed together so tight that only a thin ribbon of blood entered his mouth, Spike squeezed the bag and swallowed a little at a time. Wrong texture, wrong temperature, wrong everything. His eyes darkened with rebellion, the same rebellion he felt building in his gut. Still, he swallowed more, for Dean. He swallowed and swallowed until pain flared in his stomach, like acids mixing and burning, about to explode. Pulling it away from his mouth, he dropped the three quarters full bag into the trash and stood up.

As blood fought against blood inside him, he felt his blood vessels expand. Shoving past Dean, he reached the bathroom and looked into the mirror, telling himself he had to keep it in, that whatever it was doing to his insides, he wouldn't... couldn't die. Time would heal him. A soft sound of pain broke from him. He slammed his palm against the wall next to the mirror and told himself if he expected Dean to control his blood lust, then he bloody well better do the same for the hunter.

With pain-filled eyes, Dean had watched as Spike drank for him and could see it tasted no better to Spike than the animal blood. This was human blood God dammit, why the hell not? Why did it have to be fresh? Because Winchester luck sucked ass. Because Spike was no longer the drac-type vampire that apparently could drink animal blood. But he'd help Spike through this. He'd find a way, dammit. He had to.

He pulled out his knife and cut a small gash on his arm, filling the bottom of a coffee cup with a couple swallows worth of his own blood. He bandaged his wound and using the arm that didn't have the gash on it, opened the bathroom door and held out the coffee cup to Spike. "Here. This helped last time," he said quietly. "I'm proud of you for trying. We'll find something that works. I promise. Somehow we will."

"No." And yet the scent drew him so hard a wild look entered Spike's eyes. Cupping his nose and mouth with his hand and giving Dean a look that said the hunter was crazy for playing with his life again, he shoved past him and went out the sliding doors to the patio. He took deep breaths, trying to clear Dean's scent, then gripped the edge of the metal table and slowly lowered onto a chair. Immediately, he lit up and took a long drag, trying to distract himself and hoping Dean had his dagger ready if he couldn't keep it together. He blew out a tendril of smoke, and sucked on the cigarette again, eyes staring through the open door.

Dean saw immediately that he had made a mistake, that Spike was hungry enough to be close to bloodlust. He picked up the dagger and then dumped the blood into the toilet and flushed it a couple times, rinsed out the cup as best he could, then tossed it out the front door. He sat down on the bed farthest from the patio. 

"Sorry," Dean gritted out. 

He failed his dad and failed Sam, failed himself even, so why should he expect that he wouldn't fuck up and fail Spike too? He stood up and shouted, "Cas, get your fucking feathered ass down here now God dammit!" He waited, listening for that faint rustle of feathers, waiting to see that stoic angel. Nothing. "Fucking dicks! You're all fucking dicks!" he yelled and sank back onto the bed, bowing his head. Tears stung his eyes and fell in slow drops from his eyelashes onto his hands. 

Closing his eyes, Spike forced himself to stay put. Right now, apart was better, at least until he was sure he had a hold of himself. His hand shook slightly as he brought the cigarette to his mouth again. They would beat this. Divine intervention be fucked, they were going to do this.

* * *

It was hours later that Spike woke and found himself alone in the room with sunlight streaming in from the open courtyard window. He was surprised that Dean had left him alone and uncuffed. Then again, he'd been dead to the world and hadn't even heard the hunter go. Dean might just be at the lobby or on a run for food.

Food.

Pushing off the bed, he reached for his duster and put it on. He needed blood. Needed it before he succumbed to bloodlust. It wasn't just Dean he had to protect, it was everyone else. That's how he justified what he was going to do as he walked out the door and pulled it shut behind him.

*

It didn't take long to find the old rundown mansion on Evans Lane. If there hadn't been a vamp brothel here, he'd have sought one out in one of the nearby towns. But he'd known there was a demon bar around, and getting directions from the patrons, vague as they were, was easy business. Even from a distance, Spike knew exactly what went on in that place. 

His teeth started to ache even as he leapt over the porch stairs and reached the large door. A vampire stood guard, though he appeared casual about it. 

"What's your business?" 

"Same as your business. Hungry, out of the way, yeah?"

"Look bud, you've got it wrong. I don't care how much change you have in your pocket, we don't make new ones, not here. Get your food elsewhere and sell yourself after, that's the deal."

Frowning, Spike realized the vampire couldn't tell he was one of them. Sure, the ones at the nest that had imprisoned him hadn't known either but now that he'd been infected by their blood, changed, he thought they'd sense him just as he sensed them. A second and third vampire came out in a show of force that was completely unnecessary if they thought he was human. Tilting his head back, he allowed his fangs to extend. "Hungry, now move out of my bleeding way," he said, ready to display his own show of force if they kept him away from what he needed.

Looking puzzled, they let him through.

Inside the dark, dilapidated old home, there were big stuffed sofas and bean bags. Alcoves were nestled in several corners, some covered with dead flowers, others with spider webs. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Cash exchanged. There were humans laying on the cushions and being partially drained from their throats, their arms, and their inner thighs. Sometimes selling themselves to two vampires for twice the bang for their buck.

The sound of sex, some real, some imagined, permeated the air as sharply as the scent of clean, fresh human blood. Spike took a deep breath as a human approached him. The man had long brown hair, but his scent didn't appeal to him. Waving him off and stumbled to a stop as a blonde with a pixie cut approached him.

She was gaunt, her eyes sunk into their sockets, but her scent reminded him of Dean's a bit. He allowed her to see his teeth and saw the flash of need in her otherwise dead eyes.

"Ten bucks. It's all I have she said," desperation tingeing her tone. 

"Get out of the way," another woman, one that looked a lot fresher... more alive, shoved the waif away. "One hundred, and make it last," she said, pulling the cash out of her tight jeans and shoving it under Spike's belt.

He pulled the bill out, handed it back to her and followed the surprised waif. One hand on her lower back, he guided her to a sofa and sat down. When she started to hand him her money, he pushed her hand away and leaned in. He moved his mouth over her throat, hearing the sound of her blood, drawing in her scent and imagining she'd taste just like Dean. He moved his head, sniffed his own leather duster, then he moved in again and heard her gasp.

She smelled right. Would taste right, he knew it. But all he saw in his mind was Dean's accusing eyes. She's volunteering, Spike mentally saw him shouting at the hunter, explaining, but the expression in those jade eyes never changed. It was true, she was volunteering, paying in fact, but she was an addict. That's all Dean would see, all he'd need to know. Maybe it would even destroy the love he'd admitted to today.

Pulling away before his teeth cut her, Spike got up and pulled some bills from his wallet, dropping them on her lap when she made no move to take them. As he turned, he heard her crying after him, it wasn't his money she wanted, it was his bite. 

Suddenly, her need, her sounds, the sounds of all the other humans and the sound of feeding, of sucking, of swallowing their blood echoed in his head. Spike ran, flung the door open and jumped off the porch down to the street level, stumbling to a stop when he saw the Impala and Dean making his way toward the mansion. "How'd you...." he asked, meeting hard, angry green eyes as the hunter approached.

The fury inside Dean approached that of when he'd been in Hell and began to enjoy shredding people. Sam wasn't straight with him, God expected him to stop the fucking Apocalypse and now, the first person he'd connected with, felt something for, didn't have the decency to talk to him before pulling this crap? Dean got it. Spike was hungry. But this, it felt like Spike was cheating on him. If Spike had told him, asked him, talked to him about it, Dean could have maybe agreed to it, but sneaking off like Spike did? Probably only to sneak back and tell Dean he had beat his bloodlust, and simply sneak off again the next time he needed to feed, lying to him, just like Sam. And from what he learned from the vamps at the antique shop, the people here, they paid for it. They were addicts, they couldn't help themselves. It gave them a euphoria, a high, and they just couldn't stop coming back. They might as well be in chains like at the blood dealers' place.

Dean punched Spike across the jaw with every ounce of strength in him, knocking him to ground. He looked at Spike with disgust. Seeing the bouncer at the door start to head his way, he raised his hands. "Done here. Don't worry," he said and turned to walk back to the car. 

Cupping his jaw, Spike looked behind him then followed Dean. "Dean, hold on. Sodding hell..." Catching up near the car, he grabbed Dean's shoulder, wheeling him around. Looking the hunter square in the eyes and not flinching from the animosity he saw there, he spoke. "It's not what you think. I didn't hurt anyone, yeah? I swear."

"I know. They're all volunteers," Dean snarled at him, pushing him away. "They're addicts, Spike! How much money did they pay you? How many of them did you do?" he demanded.

"I didn't take money. I'm an addict too..." he took a step back, trying to gather his wits in the face of Dean's anger. "And what do you mean 'do,' I didn't come here for sex. Hunter, I didn't... I didn't do anything. Come on, let's get coffee, talk. Please," he added with desperation in his voice. He couldn't afford to get angry or emotional, not now, not when he was this hungry still. "I'll drink the hospital blood, I'll do it," he promised, not knowing exactly how, but if it was what he had to promise to keep Dean from walking away, he'd do it.

"You didn't drink from anyone in there?" Dean asked. "Don't lie to me. Whatever the fucking answer is, don't lie to me."

"No," he shook his head. "And I wouldn't lie, not about this. It's too important." It was a fact. It was one of the things that tied them together, but might tear them apart. His gaze dropped to the pulse at the base of Dean's throat, but he dragged it back up by sheer force of will. "Don't be angry," he said softly. 

Dean exhaled and looked off into the treeline for a moment. He finally gave a nod. "You should have talked to me about it." His gaze came back to Spike. Closing his eyes, he sighed. "If you...if you..." Dean dry scrubbed his face. He didn't like. Fuck he hated it, but he couldn't stand the thought he was starving Spike. He met Spike's gaze square on. "Look if you need it, this one time, until we can get you able to drink something, go back in. You don't take any money and you only take enough to get you through. I'll...wait." 

Spike stared at Dean for a long time. He wanted to do it, wanted to say yes. But the anger, the disgust, the disappointment that had been in the hunter's eyes and expression, in his very posture told Spike what Spike already knew. "You're just like her. You'd never get over it. I'd see it in your eyes for always. Don't lie to me," he said in Dean's own tone, knowing he was right. It's why he'd lead Buffy to the vampire nest to see how her boy Riley had turned into a blood doll. Even if Riley hadn't left that night, Spike knew she'd never have looked at her lover the same and it had been exactly what Spike wanted back then. "I'll meet you in the room."

Even as he started to walk, he closed his eyes, unsure whether Dean would stick with him after this. "It's why I didn't... why I couldn't do it," he said, over his shoulder, then turned away again, knowing he had to get to the room, and maybe cuff his own wrist and toss the key away.

Dean caught up with him and spun Spike to face him. He kissed Spike hard but with passion, not anger. "I don't want to starve you, but we can get through this. I know we can. We'll come up with some solution, something we both can live with. Until we do, I...I don't get what I want during sex, you biting me, or me...using the knife. I'll even eat salads," he made a face at the thought, "instead of pizza and burgers. I know it's not the same, hella different as night and day, but it's the best I can offer. Deal?"

"No deal," Spike answered promptly, holding Dean as if his life depended on it. "I don't need you to suffer, to stop yourself from living your life as you should. We're both a little broken, makes no sense to break ourselves more, yeah?" He pressed his palm against Dean's face. "I want you. Love you. But right now, you have to let me get to the motel before you ... not sure I can hold on right now. Trying. Trying hard," he said, though he flicked his tongue out over Dean's throat, and followed up by tracing his artery before pushing him away. "And you, you're my addiction." 

Dean gave a small smile. "I'm making you suffer. Seems only right I get a taste of my own medicine. We can be bitchy together. Get in the car. I can get you to the motel faster. You start to lose it, I've got deadman's blood. Got fresh rope too."

Pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth, Spike gave a nod and headed for the car. "Ropes. You're trying to distract me. It's working," he said without looking back at Dean as he opened the door. His fingers closed around the door handle and he had to remind himself not to grip too tightly or Dean would have another reason to be furious with him.

As soon as they reached the motel, Dean got the fresh ropes set up, Spike's help making it go a helluva lot faster than last time. This time Dean put gauze around Spike's wrists and ankles to offer a little padding. Although Spike wanted his arms down to his side more Dean refused. 

"Gives you too much leverage," he told him apologetically.

Spike stripped and let Dean tie him down.

"I bought a thermometer while I was out, so I can get the blood temperature perfect," he told Spike, caressing his face. "I'm going to go heat some up, I'll bring the same blood type as mine. Maybe that'll help." He leaned down and kissed Spike, but not wanting to tease him, kept it short.

After covering Spike up to his waist, he pulled one of the bags out of the cooler and put some in a coffee cup. Taking it up to the lobby he heated it, checking it repeatedly until he achieved a perfect ninety-eight point six. Since no one was around but the clerk, he discreetly pulled out his knife and took the bandage off his arm carefully and cut the wound open again, hissing. It hurt less to make a new wound, he decided. He stirred what was probably about a tablespoon of his own blood into the crimson liquid then re-bandaged his wrist, cleaning the knife and thermometer off with a napkin that he wadded it up and tossed it in the trash.

The day had been pretty but now the sun was setting. Dean paused outside the motel room to admire it for a minute. They had to try this for a few more days, but after that, if it still didn't work, Dean was just going to have to accept Spike would need to feed from blood dolls. He'd give Spike the same terms he had at Evan's Lane. No money. Spike would not whore himself out. He'd feed, nothing more. It sucked, he hated it, but he was not going to let Spike starve. He'd even go in with him, staying with him just to prove to Spike he could deal with it and accept it no matter how much it killed his soul. Yeah Spike was an addict, but only as much of an addict as Dean was to food. Better taking from volunteers than Spike losing it and hurting some innocent. It was obvious Spike didn't want to feed from people and he was trying so damned hard, it only made Dean love him that much more. Spike had walked out of that place. Starving, he had still pushed himself away from the table that Dean didn't want him to eat at. If that wasn't love, Dean didn't know what was. But he would make it perfectly clear Spike wasn't to sneak off. No lies. He couldn't take any more lies.

"Dinner," Dean said, walking into the room. "Hopefully, anyhow."

Grabbing a straw he slid it into the cup and carried it over to Spike. "Let's give this a try. My own special vampire mix."

"Mmm, aged bloodshake, can't wait." But with the hunger gnawing at him, Spike almost thought the pain of ingestion would be worth the price of the peace it brought him later, if he could drink enough of it. As Dean brought the mug closer, he sensed the liquid inside had been warmed. The pungent scent was there but instead of pulling away from them, he took a deep breath, trying to isolate the undertones.

His gaze shifted up to meet the jade eyes intently watching him. "Do I have Dean sprinkles in this concoction?"

"I put in a little something to sweeten it for you," Dean said. "Thought you might like a little sugar with your coffee." Seeing Spike's concerned look he told him, "It wasn't more than a spoonful. I swear. Thought maybe if my blood helped when you had that bad reaction to animal blood, maybe a little mixed in with the human stuff would be enough that you could get it down. So come on, suck it up and try it." He gave Spike a slight smirk, mentally keeping his fingers crossed.

"Suck it up... you're quite funny," he answered, extending his fangs and snapping them at Dean before retracting them again. "Does make it smell better than an air biscuit," he added, lifting his head and opening his mouth to accept the straw.


	11. Chapter 11

He drank as fast as he could, wanting as much of it in him as possible before his body stopped tolerating the blood. The thick liquid still tasted vile, but Dean's blood was definitely in there, teasing him, making him drink a little more as if there would be a pot of it at the end of the torture. He'd almost reached the bottom of the mug when the pain started and he jerked away from the straw, pressing his head down into the pillows and closing his eyes, teeth clenched against the burn in his stomach. As the battle raged, a soft sound of distress left him before he could clamp down on it. His fingers tightened around the loose lengths of rope binding him to the headboard.

Though his body shook, the usual accompanying nausea was missing. Not that he really appreciated it at the moment, but it was something. Spike silently writhed until the pain dulled to where he could ignore it and he took an unneeded breath of relief. "You're the quiet in my storm tossed weeping night and... and I'm no more a poet now than I ever was," he said ruefully, opening his eyes. 

Dean set the cup aside with a frustrated sigh. Running his hand over Spike's clammy forehead and combing his fingers through that bleach blond hair, he wished he could do something for him. "I liked it, sounds like the start of a good song," Dean said with a watery smile. He really wanted to push Spike to try for a few more days, but he hated that it was putting Spike in so much damned pain. 

"It just isn't working, is it?" he finally asked cupping the side of Spike's face. "I...I don't want to see you hurting anymore. We'll go back to that place tomorrow. I'll go in with you and be with you while you eat. If that's what we gotta do to stay together and make it so you don't have to worry about hurting someone, then...then that's what we'll do."

"Let's see where we are with this tomorrow, yeah?" Spike had trouble believing anyone, let alone a hardened hunter, would sympathize deeply with him, yet the proof was in Dean's face, in his too-shiny eyes. "It was better this time. Don't feel like throwing it all up," he offered. "And you're never going into one of those brothels. The vampires here may be civilized but..." The thought of one taking a liking to his hunter and insisting on a taste, that didn't sit well with him at all. "Not with me, and not without," he said firmly.

Dean wasn't sure Spike wasn't saying that just to make him feel better, though admittedly, Spike didn't look quite so sick this time. "All right, we'll try again tomorrow, just don't be stupid. Don't endanger yourself," he said using Spike's own words. "And you're not going in without me. Only thing I've ever seen was vampire hell house. I need a different memory, a better memory, if it turns out you gotta go into one for ... food. And don't be giving me orders, bitch." He slapped Spike's face lightly.

Dean looked around the room. "I've got some charcoal left. I think I'll cook me up a couple burgers, that way I don't have to leave you here. Do you think you're safe since you've managed to eat a little? Not that I mind having you all tied up," Dean said, giving him a good leer.

Spike shot Dean a look, not liking either having his own words thrown back at him or being called bitch. "I'm safe," he nodded, lifting his wrist up so Dean could start untying him. As soon as one arm was free, he reached for his other one and got himself loose, then pushed the other ropes across his body off while Dean dealt with the knots at his ankles. "And I noticed, not that I mind being tied up once in a while." 

Rubbing his wrists, Spike swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the sheets still pulling over his lap. Running his hand up Dean's side, he stood up, the sheet pooling at their feet between them as he kissed the hunter, chuckling at the way Dean initially pulled back. "No blood, only me," he said, kissing him one more time and walking across the room to get his black jeans. Pulling them up his bare arse, he turned and caught Dean's stare. "I don't see any cooking going on," he smirked.

"Oh, there's cooking going on," Dean said, licking his lips. He shook his head. Food. He needed food. He grabbed the bag of charcoal and headed outside to the courtyard where he dumped the briquettes into the little grill and got it going. Pulling everything out of the cooler and leaving a wet puddle on the rug in the process, he looked up at Spike. "Would you refill this with ice? You need some more ice down in your cooler, too."

He began carrying the food over to the table while Spike headed outside to the ice machine. Dean hadn't realized just how hungry he was what with the drama with Spike. The drama now over, he felt like he could eat half a cow. He flicked on the television and surfed a couple channels when he stumbled across a soap channel. 'Passions' was on. Since the show had ended back around the time he killed the yellow-eyed demon and sold his soul for Sam, he hadn't thought much about it. He realized suddenly this was an episode he hadn't seen and was after the finale. What the hell? Maybe it got renewed or something. He glanced over at his phone on the nightstand guiltily. He really ought to call Sam. He'd do that after dinner and after Passions, he decided. Providing he could fight Spike off long enough to make the call. 

Spike returned with a cooler full of ice and stopped just in the doorway, mesmerized by what was on the screen. He frowned as the male character he hated most on the show started to make the moves on his favorite female character. That was just wrong, very wrong. The story cut to another scene which showed that the girl's boyfriend had been given a note to meet her in the hotel room she was in. His frown deepened at the set-up.

Dean kept looking up from the plate he was filling, trying to figure out what was going on. Dean nearly dropped his plate when he realized Spike was back and staring at the screen with a frown. "There was, uh, nothing on. You can flip through the channels if you want," Dean said. He turned to making up the hamburger patties, mixing in some salt and pepper and started to put in some garlic when he stopped suddenly. "Probably shouldn't use garlic, should I?" he asked Spike, covertly trying to watch the show.

"Garlic?" His eyes stayed on the screen though he set the chest down. "Garlic's fine. Eat what you want. Anything you... She's too nice. Needs to kick him in the bollocks, that's what, and before her fiance gets there," he muttered. Blinking, he poured some of the ice into the smaller chest that Dean had brought out for him. He resituated the blood bags in it before looking up at the screen again and very slowly putting the beers and other items back into the other, larger ice chest.

Even with Spike's assurances, Dean skipped the garlic. Yeah, Spike was this new vampire type but what if garlic ended up bothering him since he was part the old vampire type? He could always add garlic on the burgers while they were cooking. 

It was obvious that Spike watched Passions back before it was cancelled and wasn't paying much attention to Dean. He vaguely recalled Direct TV had picked it up for a year. Not like there was much of a chance for Dean to see a satellite channel. Dean put the burgers on the grill at the first commercial and quickly washed his hands, then came back in and sat down on the bed, his back against the headboard. "Spike, toss me a beer, would ya?"

"What? Beer, right." Pulling himself together, Spike got two bottles and opening one bottle cap with his thumb, passed it to Dean. "Smells quite good, your food." Giving a shrug, he sat on the other bed, keeping an eye on the telly until there was an advert, then turning back. "You want some vampire gathering action that pushes away the memories of the hell nest we were in, I'll take you somewhere you'll like." What he didn't say, but which should be clear, was it meant he wasn't taking Dean to any vampire brothel.

Dean took a long drink of his beer. "I'm just saying that if it ends up you hafta go someplace to get your food from 'volunteers,' I'm coming with, end of discussion. I don't want the memories of go-go bitch and that nest making me imagine things that aren't true. I just gotta see for myself. I see it, I can deal with it," Dean said, leveling his gaze on Spike, sheer Winchester stubbornness in his eyes.

"Things?" Spike held his gaze. "There's no force involved. You won't take my word for it?" 

Spike's words cut him and he wasn't quite sure what to say. He'd been lied to by everyone it seemed since he got back. Dean looked down at the beer he cradled in his lap. "Yeah, I'd take your word for it, but it doesn't mean my brain won't latch onto the only thing it knows about nests and their feeding habits. And...I'm gonna be jealous, okay? I wanna see whose blood you're taking." Dean felt something of a flush come to his face at that admission. 

"That's going to be a problem, then. I'm going to be jealous wondering which of those bastards will try to steal you away from me," Spike answered just as seriously. He didn't add that his choice last time had been based on whether or not the human reminded him of Dean, of his scent. He licked his lips, then leaned across the narrow space between the two beds and, hooking his finger in the collar of Dean's tee, he pulled Dean closer. "Don't go imagining I want anyone but you. This bit of news might ruin my reputation, but I'm not a vamp-slut when I'm in a relationship. And right now, I'm deep, very deep in a relationship, Dean."

"No one is gonna steal me away," Dean said, running his hand along Spike's face. "I always slept around, a lot. Had two legs and was female, I went after her. When I was with Cassie--not Castiel--I didn't cheat on her. Never thought about it, never wanted to. I know you wouldn't go looking for someone else." Dean ran his hand through his own hair. "It's got nothing to do with trust, or worry about you cheating, or you getting off on someone else's blood. It's me. I just gotta see. I just need that peace of mind." Leaning in further, he kissed Spike. "Show's back on," he murmured against the vampire's lips. 

Spike stilled. He was caught, and he knew it. "Right." Slowly pulling back, he sat back on the bed, arranging his pillows. "There's nothing wrong with soap operas. They're a lot like real life." He turned slightly toward Dean. "A little Dean chaser would wash away the taste of anyone else's blood. You could have your cut finger ready," he said, " and if you stand behind the blood doll, you're all I'd be looking at as I fed."

Dean smirked at Spike's protest of his interest in soap operas and the way he sort of fluffed his pillows self-consciously. Dean wasn't about to admit to the fact he watched Passions sometimes, not after that. "I'd think since you sleep during the day, a soap opera isn't something you'd even have the chance to watch. And, oh yeah, I'll give you a Dean chaser, but since you're afraid someone might steal me away, probably best you're the only one to catch the scent of my blood. Since I'm so damned delicious and all," Dean said. "I'm gonna go flip the burgers."

Setting his beer on the nightstand he grabbed the bottle of garlic, opened it, and brought it over to Spike. "You certain garlic won't bother you?" 

Spike knocked it away from under his nose, glaring at Dean. "Not inside you, it won't bother me." 

"You'll be smelling it on my breath all night. And maybe tasting it in my blood," Dean warned. 

Giving the hunter a suspicion filled look, Spike asked. "Why are you suddenly so concerned about my sensibilities?" 

"Sensibilities?" Dean asked with a scowl. "You use the most fucked up words. Bad as Sammy. Because I like lots of garlic. And with you maybe, you know, not getting quite so sick off of my blood, I don't wanna screw it up. And I don't want you refusing to sleep beside me tonight cause I smell like garlic and you can't deal." 

"Nothing, not even a cross in place of that..." he touched Dean's amulet, "would keep me away, even if it burned like in the old days. I wouldn't be so sure there'll be any sleeping tonight, though. I got a nap," he reminded Dean. His eyes went back to the TV for a moment, then tracked Dean out the door to the grill. When Dean looked back, Spike's fingers tightened around his bottle. "Careful. Acting sexy might be hazardous to your health," he said, his finger running over the similar warning on the bottle. "Might cause you to miss dinner and we both know how much you like your food."

"I'm not missing dinner, and I didn't get a nap. Watch your show," Dean said, but turned so that when he bent over to flip the burgers and sprinkle on the garlic, his ass was facing the room and Spike. He came back inside, grabbed a couple buns, and set them on the grill to brown. After retrieving his beer, he settled down at the table and began to eat the sides that went with his meal, but turned so he was facing the TV. He nearly choked on some of the potato salad. "When the hell did they kill off Fox?" Dean blurted out as he heard the characters talking about it. 

Getting up to join Dean, Spike started to answer his question then trailed off. "You know about Fox. And the doctors on 'The Love Doctor'. Might as well just come clean, you'd get a lot more information out of me that way, and guilt-free watching." He dragged the chair around the table so he was next to Dean instead of across from him, and could still look at the screen. "Burgers are done."

"Burgers. Yeah." Dean grabbed a plate, completely ignoring that he just blew any chance to harass Spike about watching soaps and that he would have to admit to his own dirty little secret. Unwrapping some cheese slices, he carried them out the grill and slapped them on the burgers. Dean put the buns on his plate and came back in, doctoring up the buns while he waited for the cheese to melt. He divided his attention between a very smug Spike, the TV, and the grill. As soon as a commercial came on, he dashed out to get the burgers, scooping them off the grill and sliding them onto the buns stacked with lettuce, tomato, extra onions, and every other fixing that went on a proper cheeseburger. He set them down on the table and re-seated himself, brushing his knee against Spike's.

Spike glanced at Dean, then pressed his thigh against the hunter's. Watching as the hunter opened his mouth incredibly wide to bite the thick sandwich, he casually caught him up on Fox and some of the other characters on the show. "I don't think the burger's going to run away from you," he said, noticing how quickly Dean was shoving his sandwich into his mouth. He saw a bit of ketchup drip down from one corner of the hunter's mouth and leaned in, just beating Dean's tongue to it. "You're right, you are delicious. I'm going to have to armor plate you to keep you safe from bloody vampires."

After listening to everything that happened on Passions, Dean was irritated that the last season hadn't been shown on regular cable. He could have used the distraction while he was waiting to go to Hell. "I'm hungry," Dean said around a mouthful of burger when Spike commented on the way he was wolfing it down. He cocked an eyebrow at Spike when Spike licked the ketchup, mustard, or whatever it was off his mouth. He didn't mind, not at all, he was just surprised Spike went for it. Still, Spike did eat a little human food now and again. "Course I'm delicious. Anyone that looks this good has to be," Dean said, setting his burger down and scooping up some baked beans.

"Yes there's a direct correlation there," Spike said with a snort. Watching Dean eat with an appetite he hadn't seen for days, Spike grinned. "You could be in a food commercial. I'll bet you'd be able to make anyone want to try oysters or other raw and bloodless things." It was true, the way the hunter licked his fingers and smacked his lips might not earn him gold stars at a formal dinner but it was good advertising for whatever he was eating.

A strange gnawing in Spike's stomach had the vampire frowning. He wasn't hungry, not after downing the blood Dean had given him. Still, the sensation gave him pause because while, in theory, his earlier feeding should prevent bouts of bloodlust, a mistake could be deadly.

They chatted some more, even talked about the possibility of moving to another town in a few days and then meeting up with Dean's brother. Sensing the topic caused Dean a little stress, Spike didn't ask how Dean wanted to break the news about himself to Sam. There was plenty of time for that. 

On his second beer and halfway through his second burger, Dean was beginning to feel full. He finally admitted to watching Passions and asked Spike about some things he had never been clear on, or little subplots that he had missed being resolved. A second episode of Passions had come on and their conversation was punctuated with comments about the characters. Having cleared his plate, he reached for that last half of his burger and was startled to see Spike eating it. "I didn't think you ate burgers," Dean said, looking at Spike with surprise, especially since it had the garlic on it. 

"I don't," Spike answered automatically, still chewing. Lifting his hand up, he looked at the last bit of burger left in his grasp, then at Dean, then shrugged and popped it into his mouth. "Told you that you make a good advert. Did you want it?" It was obviously too late for Dean's answer to make a bit of difference.

Dean rolled his eyes, but couldn't say much considering all the times he'd snaked food off of Sam's plate when Sam wasn't eating damned rabbit food. He glanced back at the TV screen then over at the phone. He had a feeling as soon as Passions was over, there was going to be some passion going on in the room.

Standing up, he burped softly. "Mmm, good." He carried what was left of the sides back over to the ice chest and tossed them in. "I really oughta call Sam," he told Spike and picked up his phone. "I'll be just beside the door. If Sam hears the TV show in the background I'll never hear the end of it."

Dean waited patiently for Sam to answer the phone, a frown creasing his brow when Sam didn't pick up and it went to voicemail. "Dude, things are going okay here. We're gonna know in a few days whether or not Spike's gonna be okay, but it's looking better than it did." He hesitated then said, "Friday, head on down to Bridgeville, South Carolina, to that motel we stayed at, the Stables. We'll meet up with you there. If you've had any luck finding that Summers chick, give me a call. I'd still like to talk with her. Thanks, Sammy, for trying to track her down. I'll see you Saturday. Don't kill yourself trying to get there. I'm not going anywhere." After another pause he added. "See you soon." 

He wondered if Sam was still pissed at him and had ignored his call. If he was, tough. He'd take more time alone with Spike and wait at that motel until Sam got his head out of his ass.

Dean came back in to find Spike back on the bed, watching the show. He grabbed his beer, set the phone back on the nightstand, and crawled into bed beside Spike.

Spike hadn't been listening but of course he'd heard the message Dean left. Turning his head, he watched Dean lift the bottle, his gut tightening with anticipation as the hunter's lips closed around it and he took a few pulls, his Adam's apple convulsing. Their eyes met, and he was sure there was no hiding his lust for the hunter. He put one hand on Dean's jeans clad thigh, moving it up and down. "She's on my phone under T, for The Slayer." He licked his lips. "But it's a bit late to ask for references, isn't it?"

Seeing the look in Spike's eyes, he doubted he was gonna get any sleep tonight, which was okay with Dean. At Spike's comment though, he winced a little. There was the sound of the TV and he'd closed the door behind him, and yet Spike had heard him? It wasn't like he'd been whispering, but he hadn't been talking loudly either, just speaking in his normal voice. Not like he went outside just to ask Sam for the Slayer's number and to hide the fact from Spike, either. "I asked him to find her number right before we went fishing, when you said I needed to start watching you, when you started to have problems. Being the Slayer, I thought maybe she might have some suggestions about how to help you and get you through it. When I asked him to get your friend's number, you didn't have a phone yet for me to check." Dean shrugged. "Haven't snaked your phone since I gave it to you to see if you put anyone's number in there. Wasn't looking for references, Spike. Was looking for a way to help you." He put his own hand on Spike's thigh and rubbed it. "I didn't want you to know I was trying to call her," he admitted. "I'd kinda wanted to tell her you were sick since you implied you and she were close. I thought she ought to know, but I'd be a little pissed if I was sick and you called Sam or Bobby without me knowing, so I didn't ask you for her number. You were pretty freaked by the whole getting sick thing and already thinking I was gonna push you away. You didn't need that too." He wasn't gonna lie or hide anything from Spike. It was said and done with so Spike could be pissed at him if he wanted to be, but it was all out there on the table. No secrets.

"I see." And he did see. He might have contacted Dean's brother if Dean hadn't done it himself. His gaze dropped to Dean's hand moving on his thigh, then shifted his gaze to move up along his arm and to his eyes. "Snaked my phone. Does that mean 'fiddled' with it?" He ran his own hand up Dean's inner thigh and stopped at the juncture of his legs, his thumb casually moving over Dean's hardening cock. 

"Snagged, stole. Sometimes putting it back..." Dean's words trailed off as Spike unabashedly began caressing his cock. He gave a soft little moan. His own hand slid up to Spike's cock, returning the favor. He picked up his beer, enjoying giving and receiving the pleasure he was feeling. Locking gazes with Spike he brought the beer bottle to his mouth, licked his lips, and slowly slid it into his mouth. After taking a pull off of it, he brought the bottle away just far enough that he could lick around the rim, occasionally slipping his tongue inside the bottle before licking around the lip of it again.

"Touched, pressed, played with," Spike drawled, his actions echoing his words, his eyes tracking Dean's tongue and imagining it dragging over his own flesh and dipping inside his mouth. "Did you? Play with my phone, Hunter?" His voice dropped down an octave.

"You've got a lot more interesting things I'd rather play with, Vampire," Dean said. Finishing off his beer, he leaned in close to Spike, kneading his cock and letting his breath wash over Spike's lips. "Course if you want me to play with your phone, I'm sure I could come up with some tantalizing games."

"Oh there are a lot..." Spike brushed his mouth over Dean's, "of games I'd like to play with you. Every part of you," he whispered, his free hand shoving Dean's tee shirt out of the way and moving to his belt buckle. "Christ... I can hear your heart," he murmured. "Like music, the beat getting faster and stronger, don't know if you can even imagine how it feels." Tugging the buckle free, he undid the button with a loud pop. "I like naked games. Let's get your shirt off, hmm?" There were light touches between their lips, each of them testing the other, flirting.

"Isn't the first part of the game getting my shirt off?" Dean teased. No longer rubbing Spike's cock, Dean's hand drifted to Spike's bare stomach, slowly dragging his fingers over the taut muscles there. "Is it like when your teeth are at my throat and the world stops for one long moment, holding its breath, then you sink your teeth in and we're...one. Okay so I suck at being all poetic like you." 

"Nothing wrong with the way you suck, nothing," Spike answered with conviction, a shudder of need running through him at Dean's description of how it felt right before he sank his teeth into Dean and joined them in the vampire's way. "And I'm happy to play the 'strip the hunter' game." He moved his hand upwards from Dean's thigh, along his abs to his chest, then grabbed a fistful of his gray tee shirt, yanking him close as he crushed his mouth over Dean's. Pushing past Dean's teeth, he tangled his tongue with Dean's in a heated, aggressive kiss, putting everything he had into it after the hours of agony of watching Dean lick his lips, wipe them with his finger, and stick his tongue in that bottle like he was tongue-fucking it. 

A half moan, half snarl broke from Spike. Still holding onto only his shirt, he pulled Dean off the bed and against him, his mouth never leaving Dean's as he walked backwards, weaving around furniture and pulling Dean along until Spike's back was against the corner walls of the room. Moving his legs slightly apart, he dragged Dean closer, thrusting against him, breaking the kiss and ripping the shirt up over his head. A fraction of a second later, his hands were roaming over Dean's bare back, molding him close, loving him as he kissed the daylight out of him. 

Although Dean liked to think of himself as not easily kissed breathless, Spike's aggressiveness, mind blowing kisses, and hands that touched him seemingly everywhere at once lit his blood on fire. It took a moment for his stunned mind to react, but finally his brain caught up with his body. Dean fought to take over the kiss as he pressed himself against Spike, shifting his legs and pushing Spike further into the corner. His hands went to Spike's pants and undid the button. Knowing Spike was commando under those black jeans, he carefully unzipped them and pushed them down just a little. With Spike's cock exposed, he took hold of it, running his calloused hand up and down Spike's already firm erection. 

A loud groan erupted from Spike. This was his hunter, his boy, with not an ounce of shyness in him. He dove in head first and gave his all, this was who he was, this was the real Dean, embracing life. "Fuck," he rasped, fully approving of Dean's tactics. He cupped the back of Dean's neck with one hand, rubbing the side of his throat with his thumb, and sliding his hand lower, to his shoulder and back. With his other hand, he groped Dean's ass, squeezing it, wanting to feel bare flesh in place of the rough material of his jeans. Leaning in, he kissed Dean again, allowing him to control it, before moving his mouth down over his throat and chest, licking him. "That's it luv, that's it," he said, his eyes drifting shut as Dean started to stroke him, making him ache for more.

So many damned sensations wrapped Dean in lust and desire. Spike's curse made him almost growl in response. He loved the feel of Spike's thumb at his throat, memories of the vampire's teeth haunting him. As Spike began kissing and licking Dean arched a little, groaning in response. Why would anybody in their right mind ever let this man go? Okay so Spike liked to control the love-making. He would break the vampire of that soon enough. Provided he had enough brain cells left after being kissed and licked and loved-on to within an inch of his life.

He ran the palm of his hand over the tip of Spike's cock, wetting it in pre-cum and then stroked him again, lightly thumbed his slit, then gave long slow strokes, adding a bit of a twist. He reached further down, fondling Spike's balls, only to return his hand to Spike's cock, trying hard to keep Spike guessing as to what he would do next. 

"So good, so bloody good. Taste, feel, touch," Spike tried to explain, but ended up stuttering another curse when an intense wave of heat flooded his body. It didn't matter where Dean touched him, or how. The result was always the same. Fire. Heat. Lust. Lust so intense he couldn't remember ever feeling like this, needing like this. God, his cock was pulsing in Dean's hand, aching so badly he could barely think. Just when he'd think there was a rhythm he could thrust to, he'd hit air and groan and call Dean all sorts of wicked, or just plain swear at him. He nipped the sensitive flesh of his throat as punishment but the need that slammed into him had him wondering just who was getting punished. "More," he demanded, his mouth moving lower and closing over Dean's nipple. He moved his mouth back and forth, sucking, licking, scraping with his teeth until his tongue was sweeping over a tight nub. Then he moved to Dean's side, stepping back so he could reach lower but snarling a threat. "If you like living, don't stop again."

Spike's mouth on his nipple had him groaning loudly, arching against that mouth that sent waves of pleasure through him in ways he couldn't begin to describe. He had never had a kink about teeth on his flesh, and after Hell, teeth on his flesh should send him spiraling into the throes of fear, but it was Spike, his Spike.

Dean gave a soft chuckle, even knowing it might not be an entirely empty threat what with Spike's bloodlust. "You'd miss me," he said, teasing the vampire's cock more, but groaned and practically spasmed when Spike took hold of his cock. "Oh, god," Dean gasped.

Spike's hand on him had him thrusting and he mirrored his touch on Spike to match what the vampire did to him. As the teasing of one another became mutual, both cursed the other amid groans. Dean captured Spike's mouth, thrusting his tongue in deep, tongue-fucking him hard as his free hand went to Spike's back. He dug his fingernails in, dragging them down Spike's back, then ran his hand back up, feeling the wetness of Spike's blood on his hand and his lust shot through the roof. Breaking off the kiss he began to suck and bite at Spike's neck, his bloodied hand reaching around to focus on Spike's nipple, twisting and rubbing it as he thrust into Spike's hand.

They went at it hard, neither one giving the other quarter. Touching, groping, fingers biting brutally into each others' flesh. Nails digging, damaging flesh. Hard bodies pressing and grinding, moans and grunts echoing between them. They were fighting for control and fighting to have each other, wanting, lusting. Spike's entire body thrummed with need. Breaking his mouth away, he dragged Dean close and spoke against his ear. "Get undressed. Now."

Releasing Dean and pushing him back, Spike started to strip his own clothes, his gaze traveling up and down the golden tanned expanse of Dean's chest, to his swollen cock and back. Once he was done, he walked around Dean and reached into the closet. When he returned, Dean was undressed and stepping out of his jeans. Standing behind him when he straightened, Spike looped a red tie around Dean's face, sliding it over his eyes and quickly tying it behind his head. "You won't be needing your safe word, just..." he turned Dean around and his entire body shuddered with need at the sight. "Sodding hell." Hand in the middle of Dean's chest, he pushed him back, reversing him into the same corner he'd stood in earlier. "Don't move."

Dean felt the walls press against his shoulders, mildly disconcerted by the blindfold but he was in such need he was able to push his concerns aside. He froze at Spike's order then heard the 'click' that he knew only too well. "Tell me you didn't just take a picture of me like this!" Dean growled. "Jesus, Spike," he muttered, feeling his face flush at the thought. "Anyone, and I mean anyone, ever sees that other than me and you and I'll tie you down for a week." 

"It's good wanking material, I'll let you borrow it if you're real nice," Spike answered tossing the phone onto the bed and taking a few strides, his hands pressing against the wall on either side of Dean's body under his arms. "Have any idea how you look? Mouth swollen, red covering your eyes, mine for the taking. Kiss me," he whispered, moving his mouth over Dean's but keeping a few centimeters between them, forcing Dean to chase. "Come on... kiss me."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a control-freak?" Dean asked. He listened, but the vampire made little sound and there was no hot wash of breath over his skin except when Spike talked. Letting his instincts guide him, he gave chase to find Spike's lips, managing to brush over them a few times but not really engage. Frustration welled inside him and closed his arms around Spike and pulled Spike up against him, cupping the back of Spike's head and was finally able to press his lips up against his lover's.

The kiss ignited Spike all over again. His mouth moved hard against Dean's as the hunter pushed his tongue inside his mouth and the battle for control started once more. Their tongues moved in turn, in and out of each others' mouth sending Spike's temperature up a few notches. His hands slipped from the wall to slide up and down Dean's body, to crush him against his chest, to make sure every part of them touched. 

More, he always needed more where Dean was concerned. With a soft growl, he kneed Dean's legs apart and stepped between them, moaning as their cocks collided. He moved both hands down Dean's back, slapping his ass suddenly and lifting him up so they were as close as possible. Already he was thrusting, waves of pleasure and need making his movements a little wild and a little painful.

Dean gave a small yelp of surprise into Spike's mouth when Spike smacked his ass, and an even louder sound when he found himself pressed into the corner more tightly and his feet off the floor as Spike fucked against him. He was so not used to being the weaker one in the relationship...except in Hell. Dammit, why did those thoughts keep coming up. Why do you think, asshole? Spike's a demon too, he chastised himself. But Spike was nothing like those in Hell. As if to prove that to himself, Dean fought to control the kissing again, tangling his tongue with Spike's in all out war. He moaned as their cocks slid against each other, as their skin rubbed, his own body slick with sweat. He wrapped an ankle around each of Spike's legs, giving himself some leverage to thrust back against the vampire. Reluctantly he broke the kiss, gasping for air. Grabbing Spike's hair, he pulled Spike's head back and used his tongue to trace down from Spike's mouth to the vampire's exposed throat. He bit the front of his neck, giving a growl of pleasure as he bit a little harder then sucked and licked over the bite. With the way Spike had him, he couldn't go any lower which frustrated the hell out of him. He finally pulled his head back and looked into Spike's face though he couldn't see anything but the blackness from the red tie.

"Fuck me," he told Spike. "On the bed. Cuff my wrists above me and take me." He was a little scared at the thought of being restrained while being fucked, afraid of the memories that it would bring up, but he needed it. He needed to prove to himself he trusted Spike, that he could let Spike do anything to him and that Spike wouldn't hurt him. Prove to himself that all those horrible things were really in the past and he could keep them there where they belonged. 

He'd been about to fuck Dean right here against the wall but something in the way Dean asked him had Spike agreeing to Dean's desires. Half blind with lust and need, he stumbled slightly as he got them to the bed and dropped Dean down onto his back, following him down but bracing his weight. "Want you, want to fuck you so bad," he said hoarsely, dragging Dean's arm up and using the cuff that was still there from earlier. When Dean lifted his other arm up, Spike shook his head. "No, want you to touch me. Want to feel you pulling at me, alright?" He wasn't about to take all of Dean's control away, it wasn't what Dean really needed. Before Dean answered, Spike was kissing him again with the hunger of a man who hadn't seen his lover in years. 

His hands roved over Dean's body, then he started to move down, kissing and licking Dean's throat and making love to every part of him. It wasn't a slow process, but he was thorough, and by the time he kissed his way up Dean's thigh, his cock was dripping heavily. Running his finger over the tip, he spread the liquid down Dean's cock, to his hole. "Open your legs," he said, pulling Dean's knees apart and arranging him so his feet were flat on the bed. He reached for the lube and prepared him quickly. 

Spike's kiss had been fire and while he wanted to protest that he wanted both his hands cuffed, he loved that he could run one hand along Spike's body. He pulled at the other cuff occasionally and Spike had him writhing and arching, his skin practically crackling with the energy between them. At this point Spike could have easily gagged him. He wasn't able to make intelligible sounds other than the intermittent curse or the vampire's name. All the other sounds were moans and groans and soft whimpers of pleasure.

"You claimed me, now it's my turn." There was a hint of danger in Spike's voice as he scraped his teeth up along Dean's thigh and pressed his fangs against his artery. 

Dean's breath whispered between clenched teeth. "Oh, God, yes, please," Dean begged feeling those teeth at his inner thigh and pressing his leg against the sharp fangs. He was ready to go to the fucking hospital and get a few units of blood put into him, just so he could feel Spike's teeth again, so that he could be joined with Spike so completely. 

So tempting, so bloody tempting. As Spike mouthed and sucked and threatened, the urge to bite, to take, raged inside him. They were both insane, Dean for putting himself at risk like this, and Spike for tempting blood lust when Dean couldn't defend himself. He would control himself, he would, and he would prove it by not taking what was offered. 

Moving like a whipcord, he sat up on his knees, away from the temptation of that artery. He ran his hands down the length of Dean's body, slightly damp and shiny now with a sheen of sweat. When he couldn't bear it for one more instant, he grasped Dean's thighs and lifted him, aligning his cock to his hole. Eyes closed, he thrust lightly, teasing both of them as he prepared to breach.

Dean groaned when Spike didn't bite him, even though he knew it was a foolish wish. His disappointment was short lived though as suddenly Spike was pressing his cock against Dean's hole. "Fuck," Dean gasped, trying to push back on that tempting cock, only to be thwarted by the way Spike held him. He tugged at the cuff violently, unable to reach Spike even with his one free hand. 

"Ungh, Spike, dammit," he cursed as Spike continued to bounce lightly against his hole. He resisted the urge to pull off the blindfold, wanting to see Spike. The realization that by not seeing Spike's muscled chest, his desire to hurt and carve into flesh was near absent, struck him like cold water. He didn't need to hurt his lover. If he had no deep desire when he couldn't see, then he could beat it when he could see. He knew now he would have the strength to deny it, now that he understood the trigger.

"Hold still for another picture," Spike said silkily through half-lidded eyes focused on Dean's hand and face, Dean's struggle was his struggle, he could see it, could feel it. "Just a joke hunter, relax," he whispered, pulling Dean toward him as he thrust his hips, teeth clenched, head falling slightly when he relentlessly pushed himself completely inside Dean. Dean was so tight around him it almost hurt not to move, not to give in to the desire to fuck him as hard as he could. "Bloody hell, you're tight as a virgin." A muscle twitched in Spike's jaw as Dean's slightest movement sent heat and desire raging through him. His balls were tight and pressed against Dean's ass, rubbing gently against him, the sensation making Spike crazy, making him want to shove deeper inside his lover, to bury himself so deep Dean would never forget. 

Dean was so going to kill him if he was taking another picture, but when Spike told it was just a joke, he would have breathed a small sigh of relief if he could've. The only thing he could do was throw back his head and groan in pain as Spike pushed inside him, splitting him so far open he was certain he would walk strange for a week. He was panting when Spike finally rested fully inside him and the burning stretch began to ease. He knew the pleasure that was coming and knew how worth it this bit of pain would be. 

"Course," Dean gritted. "I practically am," he said as he shifted a little trying to ease the burn and pressure. "Maybe that's why my blood tastes so damned good. You're the first," he panted, "I've ever let take me. At least when I was alive." He gave something of a nod. "Okay, go for it," he said, wishing again he could see Spike's face. "But kiss me first."

"Oh God... that's wicked, very wicked," Spike groaned, sure that Dean's words were calculated to inflame his desire. Dropping forward, a grunt left him at the sensations flooding him from shifting slightly inside Dean. His gaze swept over his blindfolded hunter. "Even tied up and blindfolded, you don't look... vulnerable. At my complete mercy," he said struggling for words. "It's what I love about you. You kiss me. Show me what you want. But be quick about it," he added, bringing his open mouth down over Dean's.

How was it Spike could say the simplest things, or even poetic things, and it seemed to be absolutely perfect, absolutely what Dean wanted or needed to hear. Strangely, he didn't feel vulnerable, not like the last time when he had his knees pulled up and Spike was tonguing his ass. Yet he was blindfolded and cuffed but he knew Spike was his, totally and completely and though he was the one tied up, he was really the one in control. As soon as Spike was kissing him he showed the vampire exactly what he wanted. He wrapped his legs around Spike, groaning a little as he pulled Spike deeper inside him. Cupping the back of Spike's head, he took over Spike's mouth, his tongue flicking everywhere, tasting and investigating. Spike let him have complete control and that only encouraged him to take Spike's mouth more passionately and the pain of Spike inside him faded into the background. Sucking on Spike's tongue, then nipping at his lower lip only to suck on it, then pressing his lips hard against the vampire's, it drove him crazy. He went to put his other arm around his lover, to caress his back, but was brought up short by the cuff and growled, pulling at it hard, but finally accepting it. His wrist hurt at this point, he had fought the cuff so much. He was grateful Spike had left his one hand free or he would be crazy with need to touch the man on top of him.

Finally breaking the kiss, he murmured, "Love you." And he knew he meant it. 

"Me too, but don't bleed. Please don't bleed," Spike answered shakily, knowing it was too late even as he glanced up at the cuffs around Dean's wrist. He couldn't see the blood but its scent tinged the air. "It's like bloody catnip," he complained, even as his senses sharpened and his need became absolute. He pulled out slightly and then plunged his full length deep inside Dean's tight channel, this time pumping in and out of him, letting Dean set the pace and whispering about how good it felt, to be inside him, to be with him like this. With Dean it was never hard, they were always in synch. Spike fucked, Dean lifted his hips to meet him thrust for thrust, drawing him deep, clenching around him, pulling more words, more praise from Spike. "Love you. Love you, Hunter, all of you." 

Moving faster, harder, Spike loosened his grip on Dean's hip, hooking his arm under the hunter's shoulder instead and using it to gain more leverage, to pull him up harder against him though all the force in the world could hardly get them closer or himself deeper. Moans of pleasure broke from him each time Dean's warmth clenched around his aching cock, giving him what he needed. He shifted, found the right angle to make it good for his lover and started to pump in and out of him with desperation. He tried to focus on this, on the sensations, tried to ignore the blood... the needs it stirred. This was good, it was more than enough, it was intense and all encompassing and Spike was bloody well not going to turn it into something else. 

Dean hadn't noticed but could feel the slightest bit of wetness at the cuff, and felt guilty, not having even thought about it in his effort to pull free. That guilt was quickly washed away by the pleasure of feeling Spike begin to move inside him. As much as he loved it when Spike bit him, this was just as perfect. They were one in an entirely different way, a way he had never really felt before. All of Spike's words made him happy, made him want to make it even better for his lover. Spike let him have all the control, though when Spike began to hit his prostate with every thrust, he wasn't sure who had control at that point. Both. Neither. It didn't matter. His own words of how good it felt, of how perfect Spike was, of how much he loved the vampire slipped from his lips. 

"So perfect, so god dammed perfect," Dean rasped as he pushed back against everything Spike gave him. He didn't ask Spike to come. Spike didn't ask him. They both knew it would happen when it did, when everything was truly perfect and ready. They were together just as if Spike had his teeth buried in Dean's throat, just as if Dean held a knife and blood spilled from cuts on Spike's chest. One. Forever.

Every word Dean spoke was true. "If there's such a thing as a 'divine plan', and it applies to the likes of me... you were made for me. A century late, but still made just for me." The quake in Spike's belly sharpened. Crashing his mouth over Dean's, he kissed him hard one last time, then lifted slightly and started to fuck him single-mindedly. Everything else was forgotten. Who they were, what they were, even the scent of blood teasing Spike, all of it was gone. It was only Spike, and his lover. He slammed harder and harder into Dean, there... almost there... His balls tightened painfully. He grimaced, then shouted Dean's name as he came hard, filling Dean up, pumping into him as Dean's cum spread hotly across his stomach. "Bloody hell," he bit his lower lip as he immediately came again, his body shuddering as he collapsed over Dean.

Simultaneous. Synchronous. Blinding pleasure, names shouted, screamed, whispered as heat washed both inside and out. Tremors and aftershocks echoing along nerves so overwhelmed that pleasure and pain merged into a single experience.

Dean was totally and completely drenched with sweat. He felt the wetness of his cum between their bodies as Spike lay on top of him. He ran his fingers slowly up and down Spike's back as he nuzzled the vampire's neck and breathed in the scents of sex and everything else. He closed his eyes, hand still resting gently on Spike's back and let the fading adrenalin seep from his body as sleep enveloped him. 

* * *  
Dean slowly opened his eyes to darkness. He looked around but couldn't even see shadows. He felt a weight on top of him, a dead weight, no heat, no heartbeat, no breath, and felt a moment of panic before his brain slowly kicked into gear. Remembering, he gave a small sigh of relief and pulled off the blindfold. Tugging at his wrist, he found he was still cuffed.

Nudging Spike a little he was surprised he got no response. Twisting his head he murmured into Spike's ear. "C'mon Dude, time to uncuff the hunter now." Huh. Still no response. Either Spike was being a pain in the ass, or he was asleep. With a lift of his hips and a twist, he managed to roll Spike off of him. So how the hell was he going to get uncuffed? He suddenly recalled Spike had set the key on the nightstand and glancing over he could see its dull gleam. It was a reach but he finally touched it with his fingers and managed to pull it close enough to grab. Unfastening his wrist, he gratefully lowered his arm and rubbed his wrist with a wince. Definitely bruised and one small spot was especially tender, probably where he'd cut himself.

So 'his' type of vampire slept deeply but not like the dead. Spike's type, when they were out, they were out cold. He imagined it wouldn't take a lot to wake Spike up but since it was still night time, that he was asleep made Dean feel a little proud. He'd apparently worn the vampire out, surely no small feat.

He admired the vampire's body, the ridges of muscles that were lightly shadowed while other parts were black as night. Spike was beautiful in the dim lighting, like an alabaster statue carved by some great artist, lying on his side, the sheet draped over his hips, his legs showing just below the knees. He just stared at Spike for awhile, loving looking at him. He doubted a picture would come out, but he finally got out of bed, grabbed his phone, and tried anyway. Yeah, not a great picture. After a moment of hesitation, he turned a light on low and watched Spike but the vampire didn't stir. Spike's body wasn't quite the artistic gleam of shadows it had been, but he was still beautiful, and the red runic whorl on his shoulder showed plainly. His mark on the vampire and he smiled at that thought. He took a picture of all of Spike, then just of his face and shoulders. He looked so damned peaceful.

Setting the phone aside Dean sat down on the bed and ran his hand lightly over Spike's shoulder and down his arm then traced his fingers along Spike's muscular chest. Never would he have thought he would fall for a man but he had. And Spike loved him more totally and completely than anyone ever had except for family. They truly hardly knew each other but they seemed such a perfect fit. They had the same sense of humor, seemed to like a lot of the same things, were comfortable with each other, and they each understood, really understood, the needs the other one fought. Spike liked bloodplay. Dean liked Spike biting him. Another perfect fit. There was no doubt that he had to fight the need for the bloodplay, for wanting to mark that untouched canvas of flesh, but he thought, or at least hoped, that now he could. That didn't mean he wouldn't or couldn't do it in the future, but he would fight not to do it when the need was as much on him as when bloodlust was on Spike. They were helping each other through being broken, helping each other find the strength to beat their addictions. Spike had been right. They were each other's addictions after a fashion. Maybe that was part of what love was all about though, needing the other so much it hurt.

He hadn't dreamed again while he slept with Spike. Maybe that's why he wasn't sleeping a lot. He'd gotten so little sleep since he had returned that the sleep he got lying with Spike was more rest than he was accustomed to. It felt so good, so normal to actually sleep and not wake up screaming, well screaming inside his mind at any rate. Or sleep without needing to be drunk. It was almost funny that a vampire made him feel human and something approaching whole. He still had the dark pit inside him, but it wasn't so empty anymore. For the first time since he had returned he was actually glad he could feel so that he could feel love for this man lying in the bed. 

He flicked back the sheet, revealing all of Spike. Grinning to himself, he wondered just what it would take to awaken the vampire and decided to find out. He studied Spike's body, trying to decide how he wanted to wake Spike up. He had to be careful of a sleepy Spike. Spike might forget his vampiric strength if he was half asleep and in the throes of passion. Probably also best to keep his throat away from Spike until Spike ate something, or at least was awake enough to control himself, just in case.

Resituating himself, Dean first leaned in and licked across Spike's nipple. No response. He began to suck on it lightly, laving his tongue around and around it, bringing it tight. He got a very mild response and, encouraged, slipped to Spike's other nipple and did the same while gently toying with the one his mouth had just abandoned. Glancing down he saw that Spike might not be awake, but the vampire's body was beginning to take an interest in what he was doing. He licked and sucked his way along muscles, nipping occasionally and began to run his hand along Spike's exposed side. Obviously Spike was still asleep, so Dean decided to push up the stakes. He tickled Spike's cock with his tongue, touching it and giving small little licks here and there, running his tongue along Spike's balls and then delving a little deeper. That was definitely eliciting some soft moans from the sleeping vampire. Ever so gently he guided Spike onto his back then returned to toying with his cock. Sliding his arms under Spike's thighs he pushed them up so he could reach Spike's hole. He licked over it and pressed his tongue against it, pushing the tip of his tongue in a little more as he began a slow tongue fucking of Spike's ass. One hand went to Spike's cock, brushing his fingers over it like a whisper, a maddening tease. Dean's efforts were being rewarded as he saw Spike's cock growing thicker and more erect, and even a bead or two of cum began to form.

The cold black darkness that surrounded Spike started to develop cracks. Like a tinted tempered window with red cracks spidering and spreading across its surface, and bringing with it warmth, then heat. Spike reached for the heat, murmuring his disappointment when it escaped from his touch and moved elsewhere. His peace was disturbed by a growing sense of frustration. He turned his head, seeking that elusive heat and then he found himself engulfed by it, burning from the center of his body, the fire spreading like a wildfire. A deep sound reverberated around him. Only as he opened his heavy lidded eyes did he realize the sound had come from him and that what he was burning for was for Dean's mouth to descend and completely take his cock inside. He was being played with, toyed with by his lover whose face was mostly hidden as he pushed his hot wet tongue in and out of Spike.

Groaning again, Spike deliberately whispered. "Marshall." 

Dean froze when he heard that damning word, jealousy burning inside him. Spike was still thinking about that-that-that troll? He straightened up ready to just let Spike end up with blueballs, if vampires got blueballs, when he saw Spike was watching him, a mischievous smirk on his lips. Dean shoved himself forward, practically pouncing on top of Spike. 

"You're a shit. Grade A, one hundred percent. shit," he said, looking down into the vampire's laughing blue eyes. "I ought to just leave you like this." He ground his groin against Spike's.


	12. Chapter 12

"Wake up grumpy, do you?" Spike closed his arms around Dean so there was no chance of his slipping away. "Funny, I don't seem to have that problem, though I might have another problem." He lifted his hips and ground them against Dean's, his eyes closing slightly as the friction between their bodies brought that incredible heat. 

"You deserve blue balls for even mentioning that guy while I'm trying to give you a good morning wake up. Just wait and see if you ever get another wake up like that again. And you could have uncuffed me before you fell asleep." Dean groaned as Spike brought their bodies together. Brushing his lips over Spike's he added, "Guess I just wore you out. Hunter one, vampire, zero." 

"Hunter one, vampire zero. Means you better expect it when you least expect it, yeah?" Sliding one hand up Dean's back to his neck, he drew him down for a longer kiss. "Figured you're a smart and stealthy hunter, able to slip out of cuffs with the key right there." Actually he had been worn out to the point of not thinking clearly enough to release Dean, but they both knew that. "You feel so good... so warm," he said softly, loving how they moved against each other in slow, unhurried lifts and presses of their bodies. "I wouldn't trade you for another model, not for anything. Want only you," he said feathering kisses along Dean's jaw and occasionally drawing his tongue over the pulse point at the side of his throat.

"You better not. I'd hate to have to kill someone," Dean said, tilting his head and enjoying Spike's attention. "Don't want another model either, but then I always did like the _classics,_ " he said, carding his fingers through Spike's hair. When Spike turned his attention to Dean's neck, Dean twisted his head a moment and sank his teeth into Spike's shoulder, just hard enough to leave light imprints of his teeth. Lifting his head he let Spike continue to work on his neck. "Whoever let you get away before was an idiot, but their loss is my gain," Dean said, closing his eyes as he absorbed the sensations Spike generated inside him and everywhere their bodies touched. "You're beautiful. Got the pics to prove it, too," Dean said, letting Spike wonder just what sort of compromising pictures he might have taken.

The sharp pain had Spike bucking and left him tortured by thoughts of more biting. But Dean's declaration touched him like a salve to the broken parts of his heart. His mind still on that, Spike answered automatically, "Vampires don't do film. Ah..." it struck him that this type of vampire did do pictures. "You'll have to show me, later... much much later," he said, looping each of his legs around Dean's. "Mmmm, fuck... Want you. Want you under me. Want to bite," he admitted, groaning as his words became images in his mind. 

"What, you don't wanna stop now and have me get the camera out?" Dean asked innocently. He liked the way Spike wrapped his legs around him, giving them both more pressure on their hard and leaking cocks. Running his hand down Spike's back he inhaled sharply, the mere thought of Spike's teeth sunk into his neck making his heart beat faster. "Next time I get to top," Dean said, kissing Spike's hair. "Can you bite without taking much?" he asked seriously. "If you think you can, then yeah. You know I love it when you bite."

"Top anytime you like." Pushing his head down into the pillow, Spike lifted his hips higher and gave a soft groan. "I'm not hungry. I don't feel... I feel in control, but we could keep your dagger close. I'll get the blood," Spike offered, still fucking up against Dean and reluctant to lose the contact between them.

Grinning, Dean gave Spike a couple of hard thrusts back. "I'll get it." He brought his mouth down over Spike's, giving him a hot, passionate kiss that felt like it lasted a small eternity, and only a blink of an eye at the same time. Giving Spike a final thrust, he tried to get up and laughed softly. "Dude. Arm lock. Can't get the dagger if you don't let me go."

"Hurry back," Spike released him and watched as Dean pulled the dagger out from under the pillow and walked across the room to re-coat it with dead man’s blood. The entire time Dean moved around the room, Spike was like a cat about to pounce. Naturally the hunter knew him well by now, and by the look in Dean's eyes, he was taking his time about getting back to the bed on purpose. " _Dude_ , if you don't get your ars... ass over here now, I'm going to come and get it myself," he warned. Course that only caused the amusement in those green eyes to turn into challenge. 

Instantly, Spike was out of the bed and grabbing Dean. He avoided the dagger and gave Dean a moment to toss it onto the bed before he started to pick the hunter up. He was surprised by the sudden kiss Dean gave him, surprised only until the hunter managed to shove him back. "Bloody hell..." he reached out and found his arm twisted behind his back. Spike walked backwards, shoving Dean toward the bed, then twisted around and they both banged into the flimsy nightstand that crashed to the ground. "You're paying for that," Spike muttered, pulling Dean back, then gripping his shoulder and pushing him down to his knees next to the bed. Kneeling behind him, he put his hand on the hunter's back and shoved him face forward onto the bed, and leaned over him. The dagger was within Dean's reach. 

"I'm already paying for all the bloody sheets," Dean tossed back at him. "And the food, and the carnival rides..." Dean stopped talking when Spike had him on his knees. This was so counter to the long slow lovemaking of earlier, he couldn't deny that while the slow had been awesome, this set his blood on fire as much as having been cuffed, or blindfolded, or...fuck, anything Spike did to him made him just want more. He noticed how careful Spike was to keep the dagger within his reach. He pulled it a little closer, knowing if Spike pulled him upright, he might have trouble getting to it though he really doubted he would need it.

Dean spread his legs a little wider and grabbed the lube. He put some on his hand, and reaching behind him, ran it over his hole then grabbed Spike's cock and jacked him hard a few times, coating Spike's dick thoroughly. 

"'Bloody sheets', you're picking up my speech," Spike smirked, knowing what Dean meant. He closed his hand over Dean's, using Dean's hand to stroke himself a few more times then guiding his cock to Dean's hole and leaning in, one arm across the hunter's chest and cupping his throat, turning his face to the side. He kissed the corner of Dean's mouth, then kissed him more fully, his tongue tangling briefly with Dean's before he broke the kiss and started to concentrate on Dean's throat. He thrust his hips lightly against Dean's ass, torturing himself as he moved his mouth up and down, mapping the arteries and veins along his throat, pressing his tongue against Dean's sensitive flesh and anticipating Dean's taste. His razor sharp teeth elongated, cutting a narrow line along Dean's throat. Groaning, Spike closed his mouth over the scarlet scratch and started to suck on it as he pushed slowly inside Dean.

Dean missed Spike's mouth on his as soon as Spike's broke off, but then felt Spike at his throat and practically relaxed back into Spike's arms, tilting his head to the side. He felt the cut along along his throat and hissed, then moaned as Spike began sucking, his tongue dancing over the wound. "Fucking tease," Dean groaned. Between Spike sucking on his throat and teasing his hole with his cock, moans were spilling from his lips. He wanted Spike to be in him, he wanted Spike to bite him, and yet he never wanted the teasing and touching to end. He began to push back against the vampire's small thrusts. He began stroking his own cock and the sounds coming from him rose in volume.

They were in perfect synch again, being driven by the same desperate needs, wanting the same thing. Lust, love, hormones, whatever anyone wanted to call this, all Spike knew was that he was burning up with his lover. Game time over, he aligned himself again and with a sharp thrust, pushed the head of his cock past Dean's tight ring of muscle. Heavy groans came from both of them, then Spike reared his head back and brought his extended fangs down, plunging them into the healing wound already marking Dean's throat.

His lover jerked, his hand reaching to grab the already tilted nightstand which now crashed to the ground. Spike growled and pulled Dean up right against him, fucking all the way into him as he drank, his mind getting hazy with the erotic sensations that accompanied a vampire's joining kiss. It was so good, so bloody good, his lover moaning out his pleasure as they fucked and he drank, tasted his human and needed him more by the second. He was sliding his hand down Dean's body to grasp his cock, when the door burst open and banged against the wall.

Pulling out, Spike turned his head, saw a gun pointed at them and shoved Dean to the floor as he scrambled up and attacked their attacker. Hand pressed into the man's chest, he shoved him flat against the wall and twisted the gun from his hand, dropping it far away. Kneeing the door shut, he leaned in and took a sniff. Familiar. "Little Dean?" He asked, a puzzled look crossing his features as he started to let go. 

Just based on what he had read about Spike, a.k.a. 'William the Bloody,' Sam had known his brother was in trouble. But his brother's cries from the other side of the door caused a stab of fear so deep in Sam that his powers erupted from inside him. He wasn't even sure if it was the kick he'd given the door or if his abilities had opened it. He'd had his gun drawn and was ready to shoot whatever had his brother. He also had a knife at his side covered in dead man’s blood in case that bastard Spike decided to stop playing victim and made his move on Dean. 

Sam was caught off guard by the sheer speed of the vampire. He was slammed so hard into the wall that the air was knocked out of him as the gun was ripped from his hand. He didn't expect the man--surely this Spike based upon the descriptions he found--to lean in and sniff him. All he knew was that Spike loosened his hold and Sam slammed his hand into Spike's chest knocking him halfway across the room and went for his knife. The sound of the door bursting open, the sudden loss of his lover inside him, of those teeth buried in his neck, had made Dean cry out, and suddenly finding himself on the floor poured even more adrenaline into him. Vampires. It had to be the vampires, either from the nearby house or the vampires of that hellhole had tracked them down. He grabbed the knife and drew back to launch it into their attacker.

"Sam?!" Dean asked incredulously, just barely holding back throwing the knife. "What the hell, Dude?" Seeing Sam ready to throw his own blood coated knife into Spike, Dean jumped to his feet and shouted "No!" as he placed himself between Spike and Sam.

Spike took a step forward and found himself pushed by an invisible force until he was pinned against the wall with his feet a few feet above the floor. "Sodding..." he tried pulling his arm free of the wall, but it was impossible. His gaze swung back to Sam, then down to Dean. "Right, will someone get the introductions over with so I can cover up, or is there something you might have forgotten to tell me about your brother?" If he hadn't known how close the brothers were, he'd have told Dean to get out of the way in case he got hurt in the crossfire. "I'd also like my land legs back, yeah?"

Dean saw Sam with his hand out and glanced back to see his lover pinned to the fucking wall. Dean's eyes grew cold. "Let him go, Sam," Dean said calmly, his jaw clenching. Hadn't Sam just promised him less than a week ago he was giving it all up, and that he meant it? Yeah. Right.

"He's a vampire, Dean!" Sam stared at the blood that was running down the front of his brother's chest and felt the blood pound in his temple. How could his brother get taken in like this? And both men naked? There was no doubt that Spike was raping his brother, no doubt at all. Dean didn’t' do guys. Never had, never would. He wondered fearfully if Spike had maybe turned his brother and he was too late. "You don't know his past, the things that he's done!"

"I know all I need to know," Dean snapped. "Scourge of Europe, Vampire Slayers, railroad spikes. Now, _Let. Him. Go."_ Dean snarled at Sam. "You don't have a fucking clue what's going on here." 

Sam's eyes cut to his brother. He tried to come up with a single theory that made this alright, and none came to him. His nostrils flared. "Explain it to me, Dean."

There was a long silence.  
Spike tossed in his two pence. "Long story short, we were doing what consenting adults do in the privacy of their room with a bit of blood play on the side. Now let me down, step out while we change, and then we can give you the blow by blows in more detail than I'm sure you'd ever want. Come--" The words were choked out of Spike. "Oi now..." Just because he didn't breathe didn't mean this wasn't painful.

Dean stalked up to his brother and looked up into his hazel eyes, his own as steely as his brother's. "Fine. Here's the short of it. Spike and I are together. _Together_ together," he said seeing the shock and question in his brother's eyes. "Let him down now or I'm gonna stop asking with words. Then do what Spike said. Get the hell out and let us get dressed. Then we'll talk."

"Are you insane? Dean?" His brother didn't look like he was under a spell or anything, but did look like he meant business. Grimacing, Sam let Spike fall to the ground but never looked at him. "Three minutes. You got three minutes," he said, storming to the door and walking out. He slammed it shut and leaned against it, listening carefully. If he didn't know better, he'd say Dean was possessed.

Getting up, Spike crossed the room and grabbing Dean's arm pulled him into the small bathroom where he used a wet a towel to wipe the blood off his throat and chest. "I see you got all of the Winchester charm." When he finished, he asked. "Do you need time with him alone, or do you want me there? Whatever you want, it's fine with me."

Dean pulled Spike into his arms and just held onto him for a moment. The real world was back. Sam lying to him. The fucking apocalypse. Everything. "I probably should talk to him alone," he sighed. "This is a family thing, brother to brother. It's probably going to get ugly." He pulled back and stroked Spike's cheek. "Don't worry. No matter what happens, you and me, we're staying together." Giving Spike a long lingering kiss he finally pulled away. "Better get dressed. That kid's like Spock. He said three minutes. He means it. Down to the second."

Dean grabbed a towel and finished wiping down, then slid into his jean and pulled on one of his thermal shirts before getting his boots on without bothering to pull on socks. Picking up his coat, he shrugged into it, made sure he had his keys and stepped outside. Sam looked furious. Dean stared at his brother dispassionately and waved his hand toward the Impala. "In the car. Don't need the cops showing up when we start laying into each other."

Half-dressed, Spike watched from the door as the two brothers walked stiffly toward the impala. _Don't worry. No matter what happens, you and me, we're staying together._ Ice blossomed low in his belly. It was like Dean had said, sometimes the imagination was your worst enemy. He loved and trusted and believed in Dean, but he knew that was his _brother_ there. They had history. They'd give up their lives for each other, Dean _had_ given his life for Sam. Their bond was as strong as any Sire/Child bond and if a choice had to be made, more times than not, it was the outsider who would lose. 

He glanced over his shoulder at the bed they'd shared, the room they'd wrecked. If this was the last time... He pushed a cabinet over and slammed the door shut.

* * *

Sam sat in silence, his back ramrod straight, fuming as Dean kept driving. Finally he couldn't take it another moment. "Will you fucking pull over already? I want answers, Dean. This time you can't just abandon me, you're gonna answer. Now park the fucking car," he repeated, running his hand through his hair, his face stony as he expected he wasn't going to like any of this.

Dean finally pulled into the parking lot of an overlook. They could scream and shout at each other all they wanted and no one would hear. Turning off the car he took a deep breath. "I didn't abandon you," Dean said coolly, looking out into shadowy hills of the night. "I told you I needed space, time to try to get my shit together, time to deal with all the crap." He turned to look at his brother. "You want answers. I do, too. Why was I ripped out of Hell? By the time they got me out, Sammy, I'd already gotten off the rack. Time's different there. I was there for about forty years. After thirty years of being carved on, eaten alive, flayed, gutted, let your imagination fill in the rest, I couldn't take it anymore. They said I could get off the rack if I started putting souls on. And I did. For ten years I ripped them apart. And then Castiel pulled me out. I get back and you told me you weren't walking on the dark side. But you were. Just a few days ago you said you were done, that you weren't going to do it anymore, and you used your abilities not fifteen minutes ago."

"You said--"

"Yeah, I lied to you. I told you I didn't remember. Because I didn't _want_ to remember. I didn't want you to know how fucked in the head your big brother was." His voice softened. "I didn't want you to know what I'd done."

Dean turned his head and looked out the window, briefly using his thumb to wipe at some smudge on it. "When I left you, I drove to Tennessee, a little town called 'Pleasant.' I got drunk that night like I do every night just so I can sleep. Left the bar, never made it back to the motel. Ended up in a vampire nest. Spike was my roomy. Didn't know he was a vamp. They didn't know he was a vamp. He was a different breed, just like good old Dracula, 'cept he's been on cow's blood for the past fifteen years or so. Once he started working with the Slayer, the girl whose number I asked you to get for me." He paused and gave Sam a pointed look before looking back out into the dark. "Anyhow, Spike kept me together. He kept me from just..." Dean shook his head. 

"Dean..." Sam wasn't able to get a question in edgewise. It was like Dean was getting it all out before he changed his mind.

"After a couple days, they wanted some entertainment. They planned to have Spike rip his buddy, me, apart. They gave him some of their blood and turned him, but he didn't go batshit on me. He's some sort of hybrid vamp now. Took a couple days for the bloodlust to hit. That's when I called and said things went south for him. He's through the worst of it now." Dean paused a moment then continued. "Spike fell for me. And...I love him. Like I said in the message, we were going to meet up with you in a couple days, once we were certain Spike had his bloodlust under control. I was going to tell you everything then." He gave a shrug. Turning he looked into his brother's face. "Are you happy now?"

"No I'm not happy now, Jesus, Dean. Fuck," Sam looked away and out the front window as he gathered his thoughts. "You could have told me... about Hell, I'd have," He swallowed and looked back. "You could have trusted me, known what happened there makes no difference. But I get it, alright, you couldn't, fine." He shrugged as if it didn't hurt that Dean had probably spilled his guts to a stranger first, as if Dean shouldn't know that nothing he did could be 'so wrong' in Sam's eyes. Hell, when had he expected Dean to be superhuman? _Now._

"But you, making friends with a vampire, falling for him? Uh uh, that's not _you_ Dean. You were stuck in a situation, you made the best of it, and now it's over. There is _no_ reason for you to stick with that guy, to give him your..." his gaze dropped to Dean's bruised throat. "That's not love, you are not in love. You're... you're confused. You're scared, you've been through a lot and I don't blame you but that," he pointed out the window, back the way they came. "That's just something to get your mind off what we've gotta do, it's something to get you off your game. Come on Dean, you know you don't like guys, you don't even do love. This is, it's a vacation from our real life. I get it, but you need to get it, too."

"No, Sammy. You don't get it. Girl, guy, after Hell it doesn't matter anymore, not really. I got butt-fucked, mouth-fucked, everything, for thirty years. Then that last ten, I got my revenge on whoever was convenient. I had demons shoving it up my ass while I shoved it up someone else's, listening to them scream as I fucked them and carved them up. " His voice grew hoarse and he paused.

"That first night, after Spike and I escaped those vampires, I needed someone to hold onto. I asked Spike to sleep in the same bed. He doesn't breathe, I wouldn't hear he was in the room with me and I needed to know I wasn't alone. I had a nightmare, the same type I have every night, the ones I drink myself into a stupor over just so I can get a couple hours of sleep. Well I flipped my newest victim over, shoved my cock up his ass, and grabbed the knife I always keep at hand and started carving up his back. I raped Spike. And don't even say I'm with him out of guilt. Since I came back, there's been nothing in me, Sam. Just a big black hole that nothing could fill. No matter how many we've saved, I can't make it better. I can't make it go away. I didn't even want to feel anymore because it hurt so damned bad, all those things I did. But Spike...he's helped fill that emptiness inside me. I understand his bloodlust...he understands mine. He understands what it's like to rip people to shreds for the sheer pleasure of it. I understand what he did, too. What he _used_ to do." 

Looking over at Sam his voice became soft again. "For the first time Sammy, since I got back, hell maybe before I ever went to Hell, I'm happy. I know I've been on a vacation. We went to a waterpark. We went to a carnival. We went fishing. We made _love._ I know it sounds crazy, but I like him biting me. It makes us...like one soul. I need him Sammy. As badly as I need you, I need him, too. Don't make me choose." He felt the tears begin to slide down his cheeks. "Please don't make me choose."

"This is bullshit, and it doesn't just sound crazy, it _is_ crazy. Come on man, just listen to yourself." Sam was having a hard time with Dean's graphic descriptions. If it had been about what happened to others, no big deal, but he was talking about himself here. His face jerked up when Dean literally asked not to have to choose. "You'd choose _him?_ A vampire, over me?" The tears glistening on Dean's cheeks gave him his answer. Sam opened the door and got out, slamming it shut and cursing. Hurt, yeah he was hurt. And angry. And he didn't believe this shit anyway.

When he heard the other door open, Sam rounded on his brother. "You've already chosen, Dean. You chose when you left my ass back there, so don't make this about that asshole vampire back there. I _never_ asked you to go to Hell for me. I tried to stop it, I tried to bring you back." He sliced his hand in the air. "But it’s always gonna be there between us, isn't it?" His voice was thick with emotion, his own glistening as surely as Dean's. "And you'll use any excuse to push me away. Fine," he shook his head, "you do what you want. You don't have to feel guilty, you don't have to shack up with some... Truth." He gave a bitter laugh. "For all the times you throw that in my face, you never face it yourself." 

"Would I choose a vampire over my own brother?" Dean snarled at him. "Why not? You chose that demon-skank over me. I beg you to stop and you sneak out after you think I'm asleep, to go to _her_. You think she's right. You think I'm wrong. You think the only way to beat this apocalypse is to walk the dark road. I've never thrown it in your face I went to Hell! I tried to keep you from knowing what I went through until those fucking angels told you I remembered. It was _my_ choice to bring you back, it was _my_ choice to make the deal that I made. That's on me. I get that. _You_ wanted to know what happened. Now I've told you. They broke me, okay? That what you want to hear?" Dean got up in Sam's face. "I am not trying to push you away. I'm hurt that you trust Ruby over your own brother. I get the past year and a half ate you up alive. Trying to save me, not being able to, and having to live knowing I went to Hell. Just like I had to live with Dad going to Hell for me. It sucks. It hurts. And you blame me for that hurt, fine! You're right to blame me."

Sam hadn't meant that Dean threw it in his face, only that he was a reminder to Dean, a reason his brother didn't want to be around him. The rest was excuses, they had to be. He put his hand between them, his gaze never unlocking from Dean's as his brother raged on him.

"So let's talk truth, here. _You_ walked away from me and Dad. You chose a 'normal' life over me. You walked and then you never called me, not once. You believed what the demon did to you made you evil. I stood by you, told you it wasn't true, but, yeah, it scared the hell out of me that maybe, just maybe you were right. Cas took me back in time. I saw our parents. You _knew_ mom knew the demon, but you never told me that. You told me that you weren't using your powers, told me that you promised me you wouldn't, so you hadn't, but you had. You didn't have the fucking balls to tell me the truth. Just like you tell me you've given it up now, that you've quit, but you haven't. I didn't leave your ass because of _you_ , this wasn't about you! It was about _me,_ goddammit. It was about me looking for a reason to go on. You're the only reason I've made it as far as I have! You're the only reason I've managed to tape the pieces together enough to keep going. You want me to give up Spike? You want me to give up the first person I've loved outside of family, outside of Cassie? Will you give up Ruby? Will you walk away, never look back, and never use your psychic mojo crap ever again? Will you trust _me_ over _her_?" 

"Okay, let's talk truth. I didn't 'walk away from you,' I went to college Dean. I went to school, it's what people do. And that _is_ something you keep shoving into my face like it's some big betrayal or something. I fucking left to go to _school."_ Sam was shouting now, getting that off his chest finally. "I don't know why I didn't tell you about Mom, Jesus Dean. It's the night I died and then I was confused and..." he worked his jaw. "I was ashamed, alright. Demon blood in me, I didn't know what was going to happen, what new level of freak I was turning into. But you already knew... Dad told you to kill me... so you knew what you needed." He ripped his gaze away and looked down. Dean's words about Spike being the first other person he'd found to love tore at his heart. He looked back up. "I don't love Ruby. I don't trust Ruby over you Dean, I never did. I'm using her, alright? When dad said 'fallout' and you would. I'm not _you_ Dean, not for dad and not for you, not for anyone."

Sam took a deep breath. "So you're saying I give up Ruby, then you'll give up this Spike character? You mean that? Doesn't sound like love to me Dean." 

Dean stared at Sam a muscle in his jaw flexing. "You give up Ruby _and_ the psychic mojo. I don't care if you've been saving people with it. It's taking you down the wrong road. It's turning you cold. One goal, get strong enough to kill Lilith, right? We've killed a demon before without any psychic crap. We can do it again. We can find a way. Even the angels, dicks that they are, told me to get you to stop, or they would stop you. You asked if I'd choose Spike over you. Well there's your fucking answer. My happiness versus your soul. What do you think I'm gonna chose, Sam? What have I always chosen? When this is all over, I'm done, Sam. Done with it all. And then I'll go back to Spike, beg him to forgive me, and maybe, just maybe, he will." 

"It's not lo--" Once again Sam sliced his hand through the air in disbelief. Seeing Dean naked with blood running down from the bite on his throat, that had been an image that did not jibe with what he knew about Dean. "I know you think it's real, but it's fucked up. A little time, a little distance Dean, and you'll see it too," he said, his confidence returning. "Alright, I'll do this. No Ruby... then you'll be happy knowing there's no way she's fucking up my mind. And no Spike, and I'll know he's not doing the same to you. Just you and me. Like it's always been," Sam nodded, telling himself he could do it. A part of him knew he was losing control over the Ruby situation. Maybe this was exactly what he needed, even if Dean was wrong about rejecting out of hand his abilities as a way to fight evil. Just like Dean thought he could finish this and then try to make Spike come around, Sam knew if things went too badly, then Dean might have to admit that the only way to win this battle was to use Sam's powers. "Let's do it."

Dean blinked back his tears and gave a sharp nod, wordlessly getting back in the car and starting it up. He waited for Sam to get in and as soon as Sam was settled, he pushed one of his tapes into the tape player and turned it up, the signal to Sam that he didn't want to talk. Then burned rubber as he spun the car around and drove back to town.

*

He pulled into the motel parking lot and stared at the door to his room. He'd told Spike they'd make it work. He said he wouldn't leave him. He almost told Sam to fuck off, he wasn't giving up Spike, but he had to try to save his brother. One last time, he had to try to save Sam. Clearing his throat, he climbed out of the Impala and crossed the lot. After hesitating at the motel room door, he finally opened it.

The TV was on and Spike was standing at the sliding glass door with his coat on, smoking. Dean saw several cigarettes snuffed out on the ground. He saw that Spike had packed both their bags. How was he supposed to tell Spike that Spike wasn't leaving with him? He found his throat simply closed up and he strode over to Spike, pulling him into a tight embrace, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I can't...my brother...it's the only chance..." he choked out knowing he wasn't making any sense.

Spike was a little stiff, but he put his arms around Dean and held him so tight it had to hurt. A painful lump developed in his throat. He'd known. Of course he had, it was why he'd packed. "S'alright. I know," he said, speaking around the cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. "You chose the only way you could." He felt his eyes stinging and blinked, then pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and blew out, watching the curling smoke as if it was the most interesting thing he'd seen in decades. "Sometimes love comes to you in a dream," he nodded, tightening his grip. "But morning always comes around, yeah? And you've got to wake up, and go to work, and do the things..."

He released Dean suddenly and walked to the bags he'd packed. Lifting a duffel over his shoulder, he grabbed the phone and lifted it. "You have my..." He wasn't going to allow anyone to see the tears that threatened to spill. "You take care of yourself hunter, and don't do anything stupid. I can walk away from you so long as I know you're somewhere in the world. You get my meaning? Don't give up, on yourself, on anything." He chanced a quick look at Dean then backed out of the room and walked out. 

"You're still mine. And I'll always be yours. When this is over, I'll come back to you. Wait for me," Dean begged quietly, knowing Spike would be able to hear him. "And don't you let the bloodlust beat you. You don't give up, I won't give up. Love you. Always."

Dean looked around the empty room. Spike had cleaned it up, made it look decent, even had a hot cup of coffee sitting on the cooler. Dean wiped away his tears, shouldered his pack, picked up the coffee, and hauled the cooler out to the car, closing the door behind him. He put the cooler in the back seat, knowing there was still beer in there. He'd wipe that out tonight. Or this afternoon.

He got in the car, looking around and seeing that Spike was gone. Starting up the car he didn't look at Sam as he asked in a thick voice. "So where we headed? What's our next job?"

* * *

[3 Days Later]

Sam looked up from the lap top and wasn't surprised at his brother's listless expression. Dean was lying on the bed, eyes on the T.V. but seeing nothing. It had been the same from the moment they'd left South Carolina. "Sam meet automaton Dean," he muttered, and once again wasn't surprised by the lack of an answer, a snarky response, or a 'shut the fuck up.' He'd asked Dean if he was still mad at him and Dean had said that he wasn't mad, he wasn't anything. The scary thing was that Sam was starting to believe him.

"Okay, this looks like something. Stones getting thrown from this property, windows breaking, cars parked outside not starting... at first I thought poltergeist, but I think it’s more. It's on church property. Do poltergeist haunt hallowed ground?" He ran his hand through his hair. "Other things are happening around the town, away from the property, that doesn't add up to a polter... Dean. Dean!" When his brother looked up, Sam thought he was going to answer, instead Dean reached down to the duffel bag next to the bed and pulled out a half full bottle of wiskey. 

Pushing away from the desk, Sam strode across the room and closed his hand over the bottle neck before Dean brought it to his mouth. "It's enough Dean. Enough drinking, enough... not eating, not caring. Come on dude, you know better. I need you, not just to be on your game, but I need you, alright?" He licked his lips. "Let's go get some food and maybe do something normal like, I don't know, a movie? Dean, this isn't healthy. Let me help you, please." 

Dean considered yanking the bottle back out of Sam's hand, but it wasn't worth the effort. _Don't give up, on yourself, on anything._ Spike's words echoed in his mind, but it was so damned hard. The great big black pit inside him was back. He tried to hold on to the love he had for Spike, that Spike had for him, but it was like sand through his fingers. He told Spike he wouldn't give up and he wasn't. At least he argued to himself that he wasn't. He was just trying to get through it. Get through the ache inside him, the keenly felt absense of the vampire. The nightmares were back with a vengeance as if trying to make up for those couple days Dean had escaped them. He'd managed to keep from waking up Sam, but only barely. And mostly that was because he just didn't sleep. He laid there in the dark and tried to imagine Spike was beside him and that they were holding each other.

"When you need me to be on my game, I'll be on my game. You need me? I'm right here," Dean finally said. He slowly pulled himself to his feet and pulled on his boots. He tossed Sam the keys to the Impala. "Yeah, it sounds like a spirit, attached to a person or an object, like the Hookman attached to that necklace, or the priest who thought he was an angel," Dean said, letting Sam know he had been listening. "We can go hit the diner. If you want to see a movie," Dean shrugged, "whatever. Figure out what you want to see. No chick-flick crap. We can hit the road tomorrow for where ever this job is."

Dean wasn't hungry. He tried to eat, but he suddenly had a helluva lot more sympathy for Spike. Food turned his stomach. Eating anything usually meant a fast trip to the bathroom where he puked it all back up. He should eat, he knew he should, but he simply didn't care anymore. The emptiness inside him was overwhelming. Maybe because it had been filled for those few days, maybe that made it seem even worse, even bigger. He tried to console himself with the fact Sam hadn't snuck out, Sam was keeping up his end of the bargain. Sam was trying hard to keep Dean focused on the job, but he wasn't sure he cared if the whole damned world went up in flames. Without Spike, the world had lost all its color and he was losing all hope again.

Looking at Sam he gave him a tight smile. Would be kinda pointless to give up Spike for Sam if he just simply drove Sam back to Ruby because he didn't give a fuck about much of anything. He would have to try harder or he knew it would happen. Sam would give up on him and then it would have all been for nothing. "C'mon Sasquatch. Let's get you fed."

*

Spike drew back, rounding the corner and staying there when he heard the motel room door open. When the door closed, he shifted so he could see and caught the smile Dean flashed. It was so brave and false it pulverized his insides. His gaze shifted to Sam, and he could tell that little brother wasn't buying it, but he went with it. Slapping Dean on the back, talking about some film and laughing, laughing alone. That too was forced. Spike didn't have to know the man to realize he was keeping up a facade, just as much as Dean was keeping it up. 

His eyes blazed with heat when he saw Sam getting into the driver's seat. It meant all the alcohol he'd smelled had been from Dean, and it had to be so much that the hunter would allow someone else to touch his car. Maybe his brother was an exception to his usual 'no one else touches the car' policy, but Spike didn't think so. 

He'd told himself to stay away, to give the brothers time. That Dean had made a choice, that he had to respect it. That it had always been his own lot to be left behind, that he'd deal with it the way he always dealt with it and moved on. Only he had to know Dean was alright. So he'd done something else he had always been guilty of. He stalked the person who stole his heart, and watched and wished and obsessed. 

He'd heard Dean cry out, often, over the past nights. He'd pressed himself to the door or the window, trying to be near, wanting to go inside and take the hunter in his arms. But he could tell that Dean hadn't been in a deep sleep, because he'd wake quickly, and Spike could tell from his breathing and the other sounds from within the room, that the hunter was reaching for the remote, or the bottle. He could guess why Dean wasn't sleeping, apart from the nightmares. 

The tail lights of the car disappeared, but Spike followed. At first he walked, but then he ran faster than the naked eye could see. The car was parked in a strip mall. His focus immediately shifted to the cafeteria. He looked through the window and saw where they were sitting. He didn't have to hear to understand that Sam was demanding to know what Dean wanted, and Dean was shrugging like he didn't care. After the waitress left them, Spike walked in and waylaid her, asking what the two men had ordered. When he was told 'burgers', he added that one of them should have extra onions. The waitress said she knew and aked if he was joining them. There was the lump in his throat again. "No." He shook his head when the word didn't come out, then disappeared out the door.

The one-sided dinner conversation didn't end with dinner. He watched as the brothers came out and crossed the parking lot to the small movie theater. Sam was offering Dean movie choices and Dean was giving disinterested responses. They paid and disappeared. Spike closed his eyes, then forced himself to walk away.

*

The movie was over and Sam stopped at the drink counter to get a coke. "Hey Dean, I think those girls are looking at you. You wanna... you know, show me how many numbers you can get in ten minutes?" He couldn't believe those words left his mouth, but he'd do anything to get a glimpse of the old Dean, anything.

Dean glanced over at the women. They were...hell, they were hot. Four of them. And they were eyeing both the brothers. "Course they're looking at me. Between us, I'm the good looking one." He gave a small smile and murmured. "Got all the Winchester charm, too." He glanced back over at his brother and shook his head. "That's a game to play in the bar Sam, not outside a movie theater. Besides, you're the one who needs the practice. Bet you a sixpack you can't get all four of their numbers before I get back from the restroom."

"I'm not the horndog, Dean," he said, with a shake of his head. "Go take a piss and let's see if they wait for you. Come on bro, work that charm."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. "You are the one who needs to get laid. Seriously Dude. When was the last time you had sex?" Shaking his head in exasperation, he headed into the bathroom and went into one of the stalls. He'd managed to keep down his dinner, but felt it shifting uncomfortably in his stomach and knew what was coming. He'd eaten a couple handfuls of popcorn to keep Sam happy and that was the mistake. That and the Coke. 

After heaving his guts out, he straightened and blew his nose a few times. Fuck. He leaned back against the door, feeling the sweat drip down the side of his face from the rush of adrenalin. Sam was right. He had to start eating. He had to start making himself keep the food down, whether he wanted it or not. He wasn't going to be any good to Sam in this condition, and he sure as hell wasn't being any help to Sam when it came to the apocalypse. He promised Sam they'd find a way to beat this without Sam going darkside. He had to focus on that. Save his brother, survive the apocalypse, and then find Spike. Then live happily ever after.

Dean snorted at that thought. Since when did Winchesters get to live happily ever after? He had a few days of peace and love and he was just gonna have to accept it. Those couple days were all the world was gonna to give him of Spike. Time to suck it up and move on.

After washing his face and rinsing his mouth out thoroughly, he headed back out to meet up with Sam, pulling out a smile he didn't really feel inside. 

"You alright?" At his brother's nod, Sam started to head out the door. Even if the girls had still been hanging around, he could tell Dean wasn't going for it. Was he really that hung up on a guy? He wished he could tell, not that this whole thing was over a break up. He got that hell had messed Dean up in ways he'd hidden before, and now it looked like he couldn't hide them anymore. And maybe that vampire had made it a little better, but that's because the two of them were off at waterparks and whatever. Sam wished, with all his heart he wished he could tell Dean to take a good long vacation, to go explore shit, have fun. But the Apocalypse wasn't going to wait for him, it wouldn't take any time off, and he and Dean were neck deep in it. Dean called it the Winchester curse, and it was real. Sam had given up his school, Dean had to give up Spike. After they kicked this Apocalypse in the ass, Dean could do what he wanted. Sam suspected that by then it wouldn't be Spike, but he knew not to bring it up anymore.

Just as they reached the car, it started to rain. Sam waited, thinking Dean might want to drive now that his buzz had worn off, but seeing him get into the passenger seat, he headed for the driver's side. Once inside, he wiped the water from his face and started the car. "Whatch'a think of the movie?" 

"Special effects rocked," Dean said with a nod. It was an adventure movie with lots of good humor and absolutely nothing supernatural in it. "Good choice. The lead was pretty damned hot, too," Dean added with a smirk. Let Sam figure out if he meant the guy or the girl. 

As they drove down the street, he spotted a fast food joint. "Dude, I want some pie," he said waving at the restaurant. "And...maybe one of their little buck burgers with cheese." He wasn't sure it would stay down, but he was going to try again. Besides it would make Sam happy, hell, probably handspring happy that he asked for food instead of something that came in a bottle.

"Really?" A smile curved Sam's lips. Glancing at the rear-view mirror, then ahead, he crossed the double yellow lines across the highway and entered the parking lot. "You want to eat here or...?"

Dean was torn. If they took it back to the motel room, he would think of Spike. But he was also kind of peopled out. Back at the hotel, Sam might grab the computer and he could go on and on about their next job and Dean wouldn't have to say much. In the restaurant, there might be couples. Happy couples kissing and... "Just do the drive through."

"Okay." A short while later, they were on the way back to the motel, with a bag of food for Dean. Sam had gotten himself a chocolate milkshake and still had a smile on his face. "So... the lead was hot?" He looked over at Dean, waiting for more information.

"You didn't think so?" Dean countered. 

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah. _She_ was damned hot. I figured you'd like any movie with her in it."

Dean grinned. "You know me. I have a thing for leather." He still wasn't going to give Sam confirmation one way or the other. Both the guy and girl were in leather at one point or another. His mind immediately went to a memory of Spike in that long leather duster of his. His heart ached at the thought, but he made sure to keep his grin in place. He'd made Sam happy. He wasn't going to screw it up now.

"You know," Sam said, "you should choose the music, before I do." His smile remain firmly plastered on his face as Dean reached for the the cassette. "Make it louder." 

Dean laughed to himself. That was Sam's way of asking for a truce.

They drove back to the motel in silence, except for Dean's music. When they got to the parking lot, there was a spot right in front of their room. Pulling into it, Sam offered Dean the keys, then got out of the car. "We should do this more often, something relaxing like a movie. Outside, not in the room, you know?" he said over his shoulder as he unlocked the door to their room, then walked inside. 

Dean accepted the keys, knowing Sam was trying to get him back into their old routine. He grabbed his food and locked and shut the car door. "Yeah, it's good to get out of the room for something other than work or hustling."

Pausing outside the door, Dean sniffed the air. He caught the faint whiff of cigarette smoke and breathed it in, remembering the scent of smoke that hung in the air around Spike. He gave a sad smile. Wishful thinking. Then he followed Sam inside before Sam asked what he was doing just standing out there. Besides, his food was getting cold.


	13. Chapter 13

[4 Nights Later]

Dean was exhausted. It had been a bitch of a hunt. Witches had been stirring up the trouble that the town was suffering from, trying to get at some religious relic in the church to destroy it, trying to scare people away so they could get to it. They used ghosts and other things to cause the vast array of issues that had baffled him and Sam for a couple days. Until the priest died and they found the hex bag. At that point it was game over. Didn't change that it was a bitch.

Practically collapsing on the bed, he told himself he'd get up in a minute and shower after Sam was done with his. He'd shut his eyes, just for a minute....

_New hooks buried themselves in his flesh. He screamed, writhing, only making the pain worse as the heavy chains tugged and pulled. Alistair was there, grinning, as he shoved the knife deep into Dean's gut then cut out little pieces of his insides, occasionally swallowing down bits with sounds of delight. Some pieces, he forced down Dean's own throat._

_"You're bleeding inside. We can't have that, now can we?" he tsked. He forced Dean's mouth open and poured boiling oil down his throat then did a little more cutting before setting the knife aflame and shoving it back into Dean's gut. The oil inside Dean, spilling across his organs and out of his stomach caught fire and burned while the demon laughed, pleased with Dean's horrific screams. Other demons came in and feasted on the cooking flesh until there was little left of Dean's body._

_Then he was whole again._

_"I think we can do better than that," Alistair crooned. "That was very good, masterful even, but I still think we can do better." He used what looked like an apple corer and started pulling out chunks of Dean's flesh in neat little cylinders, tossing them to the hellhounds. Laughing at his victim's agony, he poured acid into some of the holes, and in others, he poured oil and lit them up like little candles. Dean could only scream...._

The scream ripped from his throat as he thrashed in the bed. Dean could smell the brimstone and his own burnt flesh. His hand touched something metal and at first he jerked back, then realized it was a blade. He grabbed the knife. He could defend himself against Alistair, the other demons, the hellhounds. Even if only for a few minutes, he had a chance to strike back.

*

Towel barely wrapped around his waist, Sam was at Dean's bed, leaning over him, dripping water all over him as he shook his shoulder. "Dean. Wake up, Dean it's a dream. Wake the hell up," he repeated, letting go of the towel and now using both hands to try to pull Dean up off the mattress. "Dean!"

_Alistair shook him, tried to grab him, but the chains were loose enough that he could fight back for once. Pulling the knife out from where it was hidden, he swung it in a broad arc, aiming for the demon's throat but Alistair fell back and he only succeeded in drawing the blade across the demon's chest._

"It's my turn you sonuvabitch," Dean screamed as he pushed himself up and, with glazed eyes filled with pain and fury, moved toward the startled demon in front of him.

*

Spike had been pacing outside the door. He felt Dean's agitation, heard his heart rate increase and his breaths grow shallow. He'd heard the thrashing against the sheets, the low mutterings and groanings. He'd cursed and looked skyward, praying to a God that might not exist, that Sam would get his arse out of the shower and get to Dean before the nightmare grew worse.

No, the younger Winchester was taking his bloody time about it while Dean suffered. Twice he almost broke in, but got a hold of himself. Dean wouldn't like it. His brother wouldn't like it. And neither of them would give him a 'thank you.' He needed to do what Dean wanted. If only it weren't so hard, and if his brother didn't shower like he had a whole beauty ritual to get through.

"Sodding hell," he cursed as the cries grew louder. The shout had him plastered to the door and counting. If Sam didn't get to Dean in five seconds. _One. Two. Three. Four._

Finally, he thought, letting his head rest against the door until he heart Dean shout again, this time a threat, and the scent of blood coupled with a shout from Sam took away his choices. Stepping back, he kicked the door open. Wood splintered and the door gave way, crashing loudly against the wall before bouncing back toward him as he strode inside. 

"He can't hear you, he's asleep," Spike told Sam who was backing away and asking Dean what he was doing. His face was a study in disbelief and horror. And _trust_.

Just as Dean attacked again, Spike grabbed Sam's arm and wheeled him away from his brother, then grabbed Dean's wrist. Holding it tight, he pulled the hunter's struggling body up against his own, closing his free arm around him like a steel band. "Shshshsh, it's alright. It's a dream, nothing but a dream, a bad one," he crooned, pulling him along slowly as he walked backwards toward the bed. "It's alright, it's all gone. You're here with us, yeah? Wake up, Dean." Pulling Dean down onto the bed over him, Spike rolled to the side and held him. 

They had him, they caught hold of him again and the tortures would begin anew and Dean cried out in frustration and anguish as his body trembled violently. The soft words called to him through his nightmare haze and he felt protective arms encircle him and pull him down. The knife fell from his fingers. If it was another trick by Alistair, then it was a trick. He would still take the moment of comfort.

Once Dean released the knife and let it fall to the mattress, Spike looked over at Sam's blood streaked chest, then lifting his gaze, met his angry eyes. "Don't be so bloody selfish. I'll leave when he's calm," he said, his crystal blue eyes holding the younger Winchester's gaze.

Sam watched as the vampire treated Dean so preciously, soothing away his nightmare. He was furious that Dean obviously had still been talking with Spike, keeping Spike close by, probably so he could go to him when Sam wasn't around. He clenched his fist at that thought.

"I'm okay, Sam," Dean mumbled, even as he still shook, his body soaked in sweat. "Go back to sleep. It's okay." The arms held him still and he couldn't help but feel so damned safe in that embrace. The scent of cigarettes was in his nose, cigarettes and leather and he furrowed his brow and sleep finally lifted its veil from him. "Spike?" Dean asked, blinking, confused as he stared into the blue eyes that turned to meet his questioning gaze. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to...I made a deal. To save Sam, I have to...I have to give you up."

Even as those words left his lips he held onto Spike tightly, burying his face in the crook of the vampire's neck. After a moment he pulled back, kissing Spike deeply, hungrily, but finally broke it off. "You gotta leave. Sam can't know. He'll think I called you, that I didn't keep my promise to him. Love you. Love you so damned much, but I gotta protect him from that demon, Spike. I gotta."

"Right, everything's going to be alright," Spike said, his gaze dropping to Dean's mouth. How many times was he going to have to give this man up? He stroked his face. "Close your eyes, luv. Sleep, yeah?" Leaning in, he kissed Dean. "I'll see you in another dream." He waited another few moments until Dean's eyes did close, then he slowly swung his legs off the bed. 

Dean's first words had caught Sam a little off guard. It was clear he'd thought it was Sam holding him and that his first instinct had been to reassure him. To take care of Sam, just like he always tried to. Then once his brother realized he was with Spike, he saw Dean kissing the vampire with more passion than Sam had seen him display with anyone. Course the words that left Dean's mouth, that Spike had to leave, that Sam would think he'd lied, made him feel like shit. 

_To save Sam, I have to...I have to give you up...Love you. Love you so damned much, but I gotta protect him from that demon, Spike. I gotta._

Sam stared at the two, wanting to feel jealousy that Spike could give Dean comfort when he couldn't, but Dean's sleep-ridden words proved Dean would do anything for him. How many times would Dean give up his own life or happiness to try to save his little brother? _As many times as it takes,_ Sam realized. 

Sinking into the nearby chair he watched in disbelief as Spike kept his promise, getting off the bed the instant he'd calmed Dean down and gotten him to go to sleep. They really loved each other. Dean really loved a man, really loved a vampire. And the vampire, one look in his eyes and the gentle touches and sincere words made it obvious the vampire cared about him, or was one helluva a good actor.

"Right, let's get you patched up. Where's your first aid kit," Spike asked, standing in front of Sam's seemingly unseeing eyes. He wasn't feeling too charitable toward the younger Winchester, but he kept his tone neutral. His mind was still focused on Dean, worried about him though the hunter had fallen back asleep very quickly, an indication of how little sleep he'd had over the past few nights.  
"Bathroom," Sam answered almost absently, his gaze cutting to Spike, then going back to his brother. It looked like Dean was already out cold. Sam knew Dean hadn't been sleeping well, if he was sleeping at all. He wondered how much of the fact Dean wasn't drunk contributed to the dream that he had. He still couldn't believe Dean was 'sleepwalking.' Dean had never been a sleepwalker that he could recall. There definitely hadn't been any recognition in his eyes when he was attacking Sam. If Sam hadn't straightened and stepped back from Dean, Dean would have slit his throat wide open. When Spike had yanked Sam out of the way, Dean had been trying to plunge the knife into Sam's ribcage. He recalled Dean saying he'd been half asleep and raped and cut up Spike.

"He doesn't get to sleep with any more knives," Sam muttered.

Spike gave a noncommittal grunt as he walked into the bathroom. As he searched for bandages, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was looking hard and severe, and even though Sam deserved some of his anger for separating him from Dean, this wasn't his fault. When he returned with a wet towel, he dragged a chair in front of Sam and sat down. "Maybe cuff his one hand at nights. If he hurt you... if he hurt you badly, he'll never get over it." It was clear who Spike was worrying about. He started to clean the blood off Sam's chest. "Wound isn't too bad."

"I'm not cuffing Dean to the bed every night!" Sam protested, but dropped his voice when he saw Dean shift. "He spent those months...years," he amended, grimacing at the thought, "restrained. I'm not going to suggest that we cuff him every night. That would just make his dreams worse."

At Spike's comment about the cut not being bad he looked down. He might need a few stitches where the wound first started, but otherwise butterfly bandages would do. He suddenly realized he was still naked and his towel was over by the bed next to Dean. He cleared his throat. "Uh, let me get my sweats on before you start with the bandages." Crimson colored his cheeks.

Spike got up and reached for the towel, then dropped it onto Sam's lap. "Now we're even," he smirked, recalling the state he and Dean were in when Sam had walked in on them. "Chin up." He worked quickly, then dropped the small rag. He pulled a suture out of the kit and leaned in but blood had started to collect on one end of the cut. Wiping it off with his fingers, he licked the blood off his hand, then started to close up the wound. "He'll feel a lot worse if you end up dead at his hands. Cuff him and stay with him, or sleep at different hours." Finished with three neat stitches, he leaned in and cut the thread with his teeth and slid his finger through a little more blood.

"While I appreciate you bandaging me, do you mind _not_ sampling my blood?" Sam said, feeling a little like the cake the kid kept swiping icing from before getting more serious about eating a piece of it. "I don't know...I'll talk with him about it, but I hate for him to even know this happened. I wouldn't put it past him to insist on us getting different rooms. It'll feel like he's pushing me away all over again, regardless of why. It's strained enough between us."

Studying Spike a moment he asked, "So have you been following us since we left?"

"Wasn't following you, just happened to be passing by," Spike answered, without batting a lash. Dabbing a bit of antiseptic over the cut, he started to bandage it. "Not a bad idea, not telling him about any of this. Might be best," he agreed with a nod. "He should be alright for the rest of the night, but I'll take the knife." Pushing the chair back, he stood up. One more chance to be close to Dean was one more chance. He'd take his time about retrieving the knife.

"Right," Sam said, not believing Spike just 'happened' to be in the area. He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he watched Spike retrieve the knife, the vampire's gaze on his brother the whole time. "You really love him?" he finally asked, not sure what answer he wanted to hear.

"It's bloody stupid, isn't it? A hunter?" He turned and looked at Sam. "He's a pain in the arse, stubborn, smug and too sneaky by far, who wouldn't?" He gave a rueful smile and took another look at Dean. "You take good care of him. Make sure he..." he trailed. "I know, you've known him all his life. Right." He took a few leaden steps toward the door, his gaze shifting to a now very peaceful looking Dean. He dragged his gaze away and reached for the door handle, noticing the salt on the floor for the first time. He wanted to ask questions, but they stuck in his throat. Delay was just delay, and it was time to part.

Sam couldn't believe what he found coming out of his mouth, but he was finding that happening more and more of late. "Stay," Sam said quietly.

Spike turned, his eyes seeking Sam's, looking for a hint of the joke that he expected but seeing none. "I can stay outside," he offered. All he wanted, needed was to be near. "He won't attack you again, but if he gets agitated, I'll know."

Sam shook his head. "No. You...you take that bed." He jerked his head toward the bed he'd been sleeping in. He didn't know if he wanted Spike to stay around for just the next day or longer. His brain just wasn't ready to try to think that far ahead at the moment. It was still spinning from seeing his brother kiss Spike, and hearing Spike admit he loved Dean. Maybe he needed to call that Summers chick and talk to her about the vampire. Depending on what she said, it might help him decide if Spike hanging around was a good or bad thing. The next question he was hesitant ask, but he had to, just for his own peace of mind. "You, uh, you have eaten recently, right?"

Spike's gaze traveled to the empty bed. He wanted him to sleep alone? Where was Sam going to sleep? His question died on his lips as Sam asked an interesting one himself. He gave a nod. "You don't taste half bad." Smirking, he quickly walked past Sam before the invitation could be withdrawn, took his leather duster off and tossed it across the foot of the bed and sat down.

"That's the only taste you're gonna get," Sam said, giving him a mild glare. Sam got up, wrapping the towel back around his hips and grabbed some boxers and a t-shirt from his duffel. Disappearing into the bathroom, he quickly pulled on his clothes, looking at himself in the mirror and shaking his head. "You're fucking nuts," he muttered to himself. 

After he put the first aid kit away, Sam checked the salt line at the door, making sure it was still intact and double-checked the line at the window, then went to Dean's bed and slipped under the covers. "Good night. And no midnight snacks," Sam said as he shut off the light on the nightstand and settled himself. He looked over at the still form of his brother and reaching out lightly brushed Dean's hair from his forehead. 

"I'll try to resist." Spike rolled onto his side and watched them in the dark. "You should hold him tight, he likes that. And don't mind him if he complains he's not a _chick_." It was good advice, Spike saw no reason for the huffing from Sam.

* * * 

Dean awoke slowly. He'd slept pretty good and couldn't recall any nightmares. Well, there was the one, where Alistair was torturing him and Spike rescued him and kissed him. He groaned. Jesus. Now Spike had him being the fucking damsel in distress. Course then it had shifted back into something of a nightmare as he told Spike he had to leave, that Sam couldn't see him, couldn't know he was here, and Spike had faded away.

He realized he was spooned up against someone. Maybe the whole thing with Sam making him give up Spike, maybe that was the nightmare. He tugged the form beside him a little closer, running his hand under the t-shirt and over the smooth abs of the man he was curled up with. He sighed contentedly and began to nuzzle Spike's neck. Yeah, he could definitely go for a round of good wake-up sex. His hand began to drift toward Spike's groin when Spike's hair tickled his nose. Spike's hair...wasn't right. And he smelled of hotel shampoo and ...Dean's eyes snapped open just as his hand touched Spike's cock. He practically flew out of bed, taking half the covers with him and finding he was still dressed. Even in the dim lighting he could see the surprise written all over his brother's face. 

"Sam! What the hell? You've got your own bed! What the fuck are you doing in mine?" 

"I... what the hell are _you_ doing with your hand?" Sam snapped back through sleepy eyes, clearly trying to get oriented.  
"He was about to give you a nice shag, that's what. Then I'd have to kick your arse or... something," Spike drawled from the other bed, where he was sitting with his back against the headboard bored out of his mind with waiting for one or both of the humans to wake. His hope had been that Dean would get up and maybe come to his bed for a bit while Sam was still asleep, but it obviously hadn't worked out.

Dean's gaze shot to Spike, then to Sam and back to Spike. He turned on the light. "Spike what are you...Sam, you gotta believe me, I didn't call him. You can check my phone. This doesn't change anything about our deal. I stay away from Spike if you stay away from Ruby," Dean said, but his eyes went to Spike, pain and sorrow in them, telling Spike how damned much it hurt him to make that deal and to say those words. He wanted nothing more than to go over to the vampire and kiss him like he hadn't seen him in years. It felt like years though it had only been a week. 

A frown creased his brow as his nightmare reared its head. Spike in his bed, calming him down, telling him it was okay, kissing him and holding him. He tossed the sheets from the floor back onto the bed and looked at the carpet. Blood. "Whose?" Dean demanded, looking between the men.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ "I lost a bit of my dinner, so I suppose it makes it mine." He'd had a bit of Sam's blood so he wasn't completely lying. He wrinkled his nose. "You did say to tell you when you need a shower, go on and take it, while I'm still welcome." He threw Sam a look, then met Dean's gaze again. "Go on."  
Sam stared wide-eyed at his brother, his throat convulsing as he swallowed. "It's not a bad idea. You didn't shower last night," he said at last.

The last damned thing Dean wanted to do was take a shower. The first thing he wanted to do was go over to Spike before this all turned out to be a dream or nightmare or whatever the hell it was. He was beginning to wonder what the hell was real anymore. Not to mention he wanted to grill both the men and find out what the fuck was going on. After a moment he finally gave sniff and a nod. "Fine. But if Spike isn't still here when I get done, I'm kicking both of your asses. So you two have fifteen minutes to get your damned stories straight and get me a cup of coffee." 

Dean grabbed his duffel and carried it into the bathroom with him and slammed the door. He turned the water on then went over to the sink, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white. He was just beginning to accept not ever seeing Spike again. He didn't want to say goodbye a second time. He looked into the mirror. 

"Why do we always have to give everything up?" he asked softly. He closed his eyes briefly then stripped down, adjusted the temperature of the shower, and stepped under the hot cascade of water.

*

Spike looked down. "He's too bloody smart by far. I could tell him I was injured when I came for..." He'd been about to say 'help' but it was unbelievable because he would have awakened Dean too if there was something after him. "I was drunk and bleeding, you let me sleep it off."

"He just likes to play dumb," Sam agreed. Dean was a helluva lot sharper than most, maybe even Dean himself, gave him credit for. Shaking his head Sam admitted, "I was pretty adamant about you and him not...I don't think he'd buy it. Maybe pretend to. But he wouldn't believe it. Let's stick with something close to the truth. He had a nightmare, I was showering and didn't hear him, you busted in. He had a knife and some blood got spilled while you were trying to calm him down." Sam shrugged. "I asked you to stay."

"He's going to want to know whose blood." Spike thought on it. "You just keep your shirt on for as long as it takes for your wound to heal. Is that something you can do?" He didn't know Sam's sleeping habits and if he wasn't one to sleep with a tee shirt, Dean would find out, especially now that he was suspicious. He got off the bed and reached for his coat. "We could go to the coffee shop and ask him to meet us there. Might be less of a chance of a grilling."

"It'll be a good two weeks before this is healed up. I might be able to blame it on the witches, but I doubt it. If he suspects, he'll come up with an excuse to come into the bathroom while I've got my shirt off or something. But I don't want to tell him, either. Crap." Sam shook his head. "We had a pretty big-ass fight about lies and truths. ...I guess we better tell him. I don't want him to go off on another rant about me lying to him," Sam huffed. "We'll just tell him the truth. I came out, tried to wake him, he pulled a knife on me, just clipped me, you came in and told me he was still asleep. Now that I know he sleep fights or whatever, I can handle him without getting a knife in my gut."

"You had to go and be human," Spike shook his head. "Right, are you staying to tell him or coming to the coffee shop? There's always a chance the smell of food will have him forgetting his questions." They weren't going to get away with a lie, he agreed with Sam on that. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his smokes. "Leave him a note, yeah? Or a message on his phone." He tugged the door open and stopped suddenly, before crossing the threshold out into the sunshine.

"That's debatable," Sam muttered under his breath. Humans weren't exactly able to rip demons out of possessed bodies and hold people up against walls with their minds. "I'm coming," Sam said and grabbed clothes out of his duffel. He saw Spike hesitate at the door and wondered if he thought Sam was going to slam it on him and try to keep him out. Like a locked door stopped him the night before.

After Sam dressed, he knocked on the bathroom door then cracked it open. "Dean, Spike and I are walking down to Mother's Diner. Come join us when you get done, okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, having been a little hopeful it might have been Spike sneaking in. He thought he had heard the door to the outside open and close. "Be there in a few."

Sam was going to go have breakfast with a vampire. Well, he had french fries and burgers...and other things... with a demon all the time. "Our lives are weird," Sam said to himself as he stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him.

By the time Sam reached the diner, Spike was done with his smoke and they walked inside. "Three, by the window," he said. 

The hostess walked ahead of them, her long ponytail swinging from side to side. She was just the sort Dean would ogle. Spike wondered if Sam was watching her. It wasn't idle curiosity, he was wondering if the younger brother could be palmed off for a bit and then he could have a bit of time with Dean. He knew this was temporary, it might even be over after breakfast, but he'd take any time he could with Dean. Any time at all.

Spike was quick to slide into the chair on the side of the table that had two place settings, and to stay at the edge so Sam couldn't slide past him to sit next to him. Not that he thought the hunter had any desire to get close to him. "Coffee," he ordered, agreeing when she said she'd bring it in a carafe. After the waitress left, there was an uncomfortable silence. 

"You could pretend I'm just a regular bloke," Spike suggested. 

Sam studied the vampire. "You realize the issue isn't just that you're ah, 'blood challenged,'" he said. There were enough people around that he didn't want to use the word 'vampire.' Not after all the weird shit that had been in happening in town thanks to the witches. 

"You're afraid I'll steal your brother from you. Even if it weren't childish, I don't think it's possible. You can sit back and relax, Winchester." Spike's eyes were cool. He didn't really believe Sam's dislike of himself stemmed from jealousy, but he didn't believe that it didn't stem from his being a vampire. Maybe tossing this in his face was an effort to make him look childish and to avoid a long discussion about William the Bloody and things he couldn't change. 

"I'm afraid you're fucking with his head," Sam said bluntly. "Dean's never been into guys. Ever. And he told me he liked the whole biting thing and that just...that just isn't Dean either." Sam fell silent when the waitress returned with the mugs and carafe of coffee. Sam gave her a nod of thanks. "But the way he kissed you...and you say you love him...and the way he's been acting. I don't really know what to think."

"He said he liked the biting..." Spike couldn't help the fact that his voice held a smile. Dean had told his brother that? It made Spike feel just a little more secure, even though it was hard. It had been hard listening to Dean promise up and down that he hadn't invited him in only to show him the door on the turn of a dime. _Invitation_. He realized suddenly that he hadn't been invited into the motel room. Needing an invitation was apparently another limitation that no longer applied to him. Interesting, that.   
"I'm not toying with him. What would be the point?" He looked toward the door, then back at Sam's serious face. "I can't explain why he switched teams, not when I don't believe in teams, yeah? All I know is since the moment we met, it's one thing after the other that forced us together. Sharing a cell, being singled out together for punishment, escaping together. Then he had it in his head that he'd have to watch me, seeing as I'd drunk their blood and was changing. I think he was ready to stake me. Behead me," he amended. "After a few days, it was clear I was fine, but I couldn't leave him. He was having nightmares and..." he shrugged. "I let him show me around, do things and it brought this... this light into his eyes."  
Now Spike did smile at the memories of the waterpark and sharing funnel cake. "He said he didn't want anything from me, any relations, but.... it just happened. We thought maybe we'd say goodbye in a few days, he was going to meet up with you. Then my bloodlust hit and he.... Long story short, no one planned anything, and you can bloody well bet I didn't intentionally get neck deep in something I'd have to let go of." 

Sam stirred sugar into his coffee. "He's been...confused. Scared. He fights, but the real fight, the old fight, just doesn't seem to be in him in anymore. I'm afraid he's too...weak...to do what needs to be done. I feel like it's my turn to look out for him and," Sam shook his head, "he's stubborn. Dad was always a 'my way or the highway' type, and Dean is too. But I feel like he's lost and doesn't really know which way to go but tries anyhow. I'm not sure that what you think you have with him is real. Or vice versa. Dean doesn't do the love thing. Love 'em and leave 'em, yeah. But not ever in it for the long haul." He took a sip of his coffee. Dean would like it. It was good and strong. 

"He's not weak. You want proof, you put your life at risk and you'll see," Spike countered, unreasonably annoyed by that description of Dean. He couldn't argue Dean wasn't lost, but deep in his heart, Spike was convinced they'd gotten him back on the right road before Sam arrived. "He told me the same thing, about not being one for relationships. But what does it matter?" Spike demanded. "If it's real for a few days, a few weeks, or months, what is so bloody wrong with it? If it makes him feel good, isn't it what counts? He might get tired of me, and if he does I expect he'll show me the door. It's my risk to bear. Not yours. So why the hell do you make him choose? Why do--"

"Am I interrupting something?" Dean asked, though it was quite plain Spike was agitated and Sam was getting worked up. When Sam looked up at him, he saw that stubborn rebellious look Sam got whenever he started to dig his heels in. He slipped by Spike to get to the empty seat, running his fingers along the back side of Spike's neck. When he settled into his seat, he pressed his leg against Spike's and his hand immediately dropped to slowly stroke Spike's thigh. Pouring himself a coffee, he saw both men were being tight-lipped.

The waitress appeared almost instantly. Dean order a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, hashbrowns, and a cinnamon roll while Sam's order of a whole wheat toast, omelet, bacon and a side of fruit made Dean roll his eyes. As soon as the waitress left, Dean glanced from his brother to his lover. "Okay, so let's just get this all out on the table. One, what happened last night? Two, Spike either you bullied Sam into letting you stay, or my nightmare freaked Sam enough he asked you to stay. Three, where do we go from here?"

Spike wanted to be anywhere but here. Correction, he wanted to be anywhere else but here, and yet be _with_ Dean. The hand on his thigh felt good, the heat from Dean's palm seeping right through Spike's jeans and making him much too aware of the hunter. If they were alone, Spike would find a way to distract Dean, to touch him just right and they'd be too busy to have this little talk. 

Sam rubbed his neck. "I was in the shower and..."

"Long story short. I was outside, heard you having a bad dream and didn't hear Sam leaving the shower. I figured he couldn't hear you so I came in. You had the knife. There was a lot of noise and a bit of bloodshed, not much," he emphasized. "Sam decided to let me stay, maybe because you listened to me and calmed down," Spike said. "I don't think he was that freaked or he wouldn't be up your arse, metaphorically speaking, in your bed." He didn't add a _that's my job_ , but it was there, in his eyes and tone, and he was sure neither Winchester missed it. "As for what's next, breakfast. Speaking of..." He caught their waitress' eye just as she was about to pass by. "I'd like an order of bacon, crispy," he said. 

His gaze returned to and locked with Dean's. "And how have you been?" _Miss you._ "I hear you're keeping in shape, chasing witches." _I want to exercise you in twenty other ways, all of them involving just you and me._ His pressed his thigh more firmly against Dean's and tried not to stare too obviously at his mouth. Before he left, he was going to claim a kiss. At least that.  
Dean listened to Spike's explanation, knowing there was a lot being left out, but willing to accept it. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know the details. Spike was okay, Sam was okay, and there wasn't that much blood on the carpet, though any blood at all was more than he would have liked, especially since he knew he was the cause of it. It sucked, but he knew he couldn't risk keeping a weapon at hand anymore while he slept, at least not until the nightmares calmed down. If they ever calmed down. 

Hearing all the double entendres in Spike's words, he tried to hide his smile. He pressed his thigh back against Spike's and knew his eyes told his lover he wished things could be different too. He so was not a hand holder, but he desperately wanted to be as close to Spike as he could be. He also wasn't entirely certain he could keep his hand away from the inside of Spike's thigh. Lifting his hand from Spike's thigh, he interlaced his fingers with Spike's, then moved their hands back below the table where it hopefully wouldn't be too obvious. He didn't want to rile anyone up so he tried to keep it discreet. It had been a helluva an effort not to kiss Spike when he'd first walked in, though. Looking over at Sam, he still wanted an answer to his 'what next' question, whether Spike wanted to hear it or not.

"So," he said meeting Sam's eyes coolly, "where does our agreement stand?" He tightened his handhold on Spike, dreading the answer he figured he was going to get. Before Spike left, he would make sure he and Spike at least had a little privacy. He wanted to kiss Spike and touch him and take what comfort he could steal before Sam forced him to leave Spike behind again.

Also gripping Dean's hand tighter, Spike studied Sam, noticing the deep breath he took and the way he stared at both of them. His jaw was stiff and he looked more uptight and uncomfortable than ever. Instinctively, Spike knew this wasn't the time to force a decision from Sam, so he spoke up. "I'll stay the day and leave tonight," he looked at Dean. "No one has to decide anything right now and Sam can talk to you about it, alone. It's better that way, yeah?" 

"Okay," Sam agreed, his gaze shifting away from both men. 

Spike squeezed Dean's hand one more time. "I thought you said he's the chatty one in the family?"

"I said he was the encyclopedia and has more empathy than me," Dean answered, watching Sam. He knew what Sam wanted to say. He could feel it in his bones but, if Sam was gonna give them a day together, he'd take it. As much as he'd like to just take Spike back to the motel room and spend all those precious hours with him, he didn't want to get accused of taking another holiday. So even though he had planned on them taking the day off after the bitch of the fight they'd had putting the witches down the day before, it would be better to show Sam that Spike not only made him happy, but 'put a spring in his step' and he was ready to go on to the next fight.

"So Mr. Encyclopedia," Dean started but the waitress was back. He gave a smile and a wink to the waitress as she set their food down in front of them including a new carafe of coffee. "Thanks, Sweetheart," Dean told the girl, smiling at her charmingly. 

She smiled back, glancing at the two men as well. "You're welcome, Doll," she said. "Bacon will be up in a minute," she told Spike.

As soon as she was gone, Dean started again, "So what's our next gig? You said you saw something that had 'black dog' written all over it, a nasty little ghost that show's up every full moon, and...crap, I forget the third one. Oh yeah, it was people going missing but nothing specifically crying out supernatural. What's your pleasure?"

"Ahhh... you want to talk cases... okay." Grabbing his utensils, Sam went into some of the details that put the three mysteries on their possibly supernatural events radar. "We could maybe swing by Jackson and check it out, and if it’s nothing, continue on to Tantalus, Idaho. Maybe take off tomorrow?" he asked, stabbing his fork into his eggs.  
Spike gave a shudder. " _Vegetable_ omelet, I see what you mean about his eating habits." The waitress brought his side order over, and he grabbed one of the bacons. "The people missing in Jackson, are there any similarities between them? Same school, part of town, boyfriend? Anything?" he asked. It hadn't escaped him that all of the names Sam had mentioned were female.

"Range in age from twenties to mid-thirties. Scattered all over town. They have all attended the community college at some point in their lives, but not at the same time. They do all visit the alumni website, but if there are other links, we're not going to know without doing legwork in the town itself." Sam frowned a moment. "They each have at least one older brother. I haven't looked into the brothers to see if there's a link between them."

Dean cut his cinnamon roll in half and put it on Spike's plate, snagging a piece of bacon for himself in the process. "It's not fried worms, but it's still damned good," he told him.

"I'll give it a try but you should eat faster, your eyeballs are bleeding," he said, pointing his chin at the sunny side up eggs in Dean's plate. "Seems to me the missing people should be a priority," he shrugged, taking a small bite of the roll, then a bigger one. "If they're not dead, there's a chance of saving them. The ghost is already dead and I have no idea what this black dog is guilty of."

Sam looked at Spike, then at Dean, then made a face. "I feel like I've been transported... this is surreal."  
"Which bit is surreal? That you're a grown man who believes in ghosts and werewolves, that you're a hunter by profession, or because I let Dean have a slice of bacon without biting his hand off?" Spike asked, his hand snaking out to grip Dean's errant hand on a second attempt to grab from his plate, though he smiled and allowed it.

"I don't even know where to start. But _that,_ " he said looking at Dean's hand with the bacon, "is one of the reasons I eat the way I do. He doesn't try to steal from my plate then. And notice my bacon is as far from the thief as I can get it. And do I even want to know what fried worms are?"

"You eat like a rabbit because I steal the occasional french fry?" Dean said. "Bullshit. You've always eaten like that. And I always gave you the last cookie. Fried worms is funnel cake. He called it a poofter dessert, but he tried to claim the whole damned thing for himself." 

"Poofter?" Sam asked.

"You said he was smart," Spike said.

"Like I said, surreal. I need more coffee." Sam picked up the carafe and poured more for all of them. 

They fell back into discussing the missing persons case and Spike suddenly realized how much he missed the days when he'd been part of a group, hashing out theories and coming up with strategies for taking care of evil things, large and small. As Sam laid out the history of the town and minor details and Dean yawned, Spike gave a laugh. "It's like a regular Scooby meeting. You're Red," he said pointing at Sam. "She's a powerful witch, not the sort you hunt, very cute in an 'I'll always look high school' sort of way, and book smart." He turned to Dean, "And you're Buffy. Cute. Short... er shorter than Willow here, and you just want to kick some arse. Do you have a Giles? You know, someone who wears a tweed suit, spectacles and lends an air of credibility and class to the operation? Your Bobby, maybe?"

Both Sam and Dean looked at Spike, obviously baffled. The suggestion of Bobby wearing a tweed suit and adding class made them both laugh. "Bobby owns a junkyard," Dean said. "But he is the 'go to' guy for anything." He looked at Sam, "I always told you that you were a red-headed woman. Even Spike knows it," Dean said smugly, then glared at Spike. "But I am _not_ a chick."


	14. Chapter 14

It was night and the bar was tightly packed because some competitions that seemed very popular were scheduled for later in the evening. In the meantime, there was a bit of dancing going on in the slightly raised stage area where bands played or where the competitions would be held. Standing at the bar and waiting for the beers he'd ordered, Spike's gaze wandered back to the dancers. Even if this place were more mixed so they wouldn't be the only males dancing with each other, Dean had already stated he didn't dance. It wasn't the dance that Spike wanted, it was the closeness. Watching the couples dancing, their bodies sliding together, it made him want what he'd been craving all day. His love, in his arms.

They had to be the most cursed couple in the world he thought, turning his head to where Dean and Sam stood around a tall round table. All day long all they'd managed were secret touches and looks passed between himself and Dean. They would find time to be alone before the night ended and they went their separate ways, Spike vowed, but every time they tried, it was like the world conspired against them. If it wasn't Sam, it was something else. Earlier in the day, Sam had gone off to the laundry, making it clear he wouldn't be back for hours. Words hadn't been exchanged but Spike took it to mean he was giving them time. Time neither one wanted to waste. The instant they saw Sam drive off, they were in the room, the door slamming shut, and they were half naked before they ever hit the bed. Then there had been the knocking on the door, which they were prepared to ignore until they heard "manager coming in."

Plumbing issues. Bloody hell, they'd sat on the bed, paced across the floor, and even gone for a short walk, but it had taken management the entire time that Sam was away. When Sam walked in, they'd both snapped at him like it was his fault. Spike had caught his mumbled complaints about having expected them to be more relaxed and not so uptight when he got back.

Spike had gone out for a smoke and Dean had followed, taking a hit himself. Somehow they'd found themselves in the Impala, planning where they'd go and park for a quick fuck when the sound of cars crashing had them looking up to see an accident on the street. The cars were blocking the exit, which meant they couldn't leave the parking lot at all. They'd gone to the backseat anyway and there had been a bit of dry humping and kissing, but they gave up when the sirens wouldn't stop and people kept walking into the lot. All Spike knew was that the little taste of Dean laying on top of him, it had been a mistake. Hours had passed but there was a low grade fire burning inside him and each time he was close to Dean, it intensified.

"Come on, mate, where are the beers?" he demanded, impatient now to be next to the source of his torture.

Dean watched Spike through the crowd. He glanced at the dance floor and maybe if he wouldn't be so self-conscious of being the only guy out there with another guy, he would have let Spike drag him out there. He had appreciated the hell out of Sam going off to do the laundry, but that hadn't worked out. Making out in the car hadn't worked out. They'd tried to find a secluded spot behind a building and got back there only to find guys pressure washing the back side for painting. Who the fuck painted the back side of a building that no one would ever see anyhow? The nearby park didn't have enough cover and there were too many kids around. They'd been told about a gay bar and they got there only to find it was shut down for the day for pest control spraying. They couldn't catch a fucking break. Literally.

"I appreciate you trying to give us time today," Dean said to Sam.

Sam gave a shrug. "Sorry it got screwed up."

Dean turned toward the dance floor when some announcer said it was time to clear out, it was time for the competitions to start and one of the first things up was a wet t-shirt contest. He watched the rush to the bathrooms and smirked. Yeah, the guys weren't going to want to miss this.

When the lights dimmed and the stage lights came on, Spike finally got back to the table with their beers. Instead of looking at the dance floor like everyone else, he watched Dean bring the bottle to his lips. Whether the hunter was torturing him on purpose or not, the effect on Spike's body was the same. All he knew was that Dean was taking an incredibly long time drinking, his lips wrapping tightly around the bottle that moved slightly back and forth as Dean swallowed. By the time the hunter put the bottle down, Spike was rock hard, his cock straining painfully against his zipper. In the dark he grabbed Dean's hand and lowered it over his cock, pressing against it, then let both their hands drop.

It took all of Dean's control not to groan at feeling Spike's cock under his hand, and the feel of Spike's very firm erection had his own body responding. He looked up at the stage and the good-looking women gathering on it, then at the crowd. His gaze slid over to the bathroom. Yeah, no guy would want to miss this...

"Gotta piss," Dean said and gave Spike a look that said for Spike to follow him, knowing Spike would be able to plainly see his face even in the dim lighting.

Giving a barely perceptible nod, Spike waited two minutes before he left Sam to his own devices and made his way to the bathroom. "Dean?" His voice was rough with desire as he pushed the door open, hoping they were alone.

Dean was just inside the door. The bathroom, as he'd hoped, was empty. He immediately pulled Spike into a kiss as he walked Spike back toward the handicapped stall. It was big and even had its own sink. Another bonus was that it was kind of off to the side so someone walking in wouldn't immediately take note of it.

He had his tongue in Spike's mouth almost as soon as their lips touched and was already sliding one hand under Spike's shirt while the other went to Spike's belt. He had the belt undone and the button to Spike's jeans open by the time they reached the open stall.

Spike backed into the stall, dragging Dean with him, then pushing Dean up against the door, he made it shut. He slid the lock into place and immediately started undoing Dean's jeans. His mouth moved furiously over Dean's, his tongue thrusting in and out of his lover's mouth, dancing and battling. His blood was on fire, and the sound of Dean's zipper opening almost undid him. Impatiently shoving Dean's pants and shorts down to his hips, he plastered his body against Dean, groaning as his own exposed cock rubbed against Dean's.

He broke the kiss only to allow Dean to take a breath. "Hunter, I miss you, miss this, miss..." he couldn't go on another second without kissing Dean again. Crushing his mouth over Dean's, he cupped his neck and kissed him with all the passion that had been building over these last hellish days.

The fire and passion in Spike's kiss had Dean responding just as readily. Even for all the fuck-ups today, it had been great just having Spike with him. This, though, this he had been craving practically since he'd set eyes on Spike this morning. Spike didn't give him a chance to answer so he answered the only way he could. He pulled Spike so close it was almost too close for them to rub against each other. Shifting, he turned them so he had Spike pushed up against the wall. He wanted to kiss Spike all over, sample every inch of his flesh but he was absolutely burning up with need.

"Love you," Dean managed to get out when Spike gave him a moment to breathe again. "Want you. Want in you."

Dean's words lanced through Spike and had him grinding harder against his lover, ready to give whatever Dean wanted. "Yes, I want that," he answered, bringing his mouth down over Dean's one more time, kissing him hard, his tongue moving aggressively inside Dean's mouth, reclaiming him until Dean was literally was out of breath. Eyes locked with Dean's, he slowly turned around to face the door and put his palms against it. "Fuck me."

Groaning, Dean wanted to do exactly that. He also wanted to take his time, tonguing Spike's hole, caressing his cock, but after the way the day went...no, he didn't want this ruined or interrupted. He shoved Spike's jeans down to his hips, then stroked his own cock, spreading his heavily dripping pre-cum down his shaft. Glancing over at the sink, he saw there was liquid soap and quickly got some on his fingers. He slowly pushed his soapy fingers inside Spike, loving the way Spike reacted and he sank his teeth in to the vampire's shoulder as he began to scissor and stretch Spike. He didn't want to just shove it in. Who knew if they'd ever...Dean clamped down on that thought. He really didn't want their last time making love to be in a bathroom stall in some bar, but he was with Spike and that truly was all that mattered.

Reaching around with his other hand, he began stroking Spike's cock, and began sucking on the side of Spike's neck, sucking in time to the finger fucking and the stroking.

"Ungh..." Spike's head dropped down. Watching Dean's hand move up and down his shaft added another dimension to the sensations ripping through him each time Dean's fingers moved inside him and with each bite or kiss the hunter delivered. "Fuck..." He started to thrust into Dean's fist, then with his hands flat on the door, pressed back against Dean's fingers, making him go deeper. "Times I wake up, those are the worst. Because I've dreamed of being with you, of touching you. Touching you in all sorts of bad ways. Then I find I'm alone, and hard. So bloody hard."

"I like when you touch me in bad ways," Dean said in between sucking and nipping at Spike's throat. "I've dreamed of you too. When the nightmares aren't tearing me up. I've missed you so damned much this past week. I told Sam when this apocalypse thing is done, you and me, we're going to be together. I've stared at the pictures of you in my phone until they're burned into my brain."

Dean finally aligned his cock to Spike's hole. "Oh, God," he said softly, just the feeling of Spike's cheeks around his tip making him shudder in delight. He slowly pushed in, moaning in sheer pleasure but he also felt something more, something so much deeper inside of him. He knew this wasn't just about having sex. He could feel it in the way his heart beat, the way his gut clenched, the way he wanted to devour the man in front of him.

"Go on." Spike pushed against the door, his wiry muscles flexing with the effort. Just as Dean's thick cock split him open and started to sink inside him, shudders of pleasure rippled through his entire body. The pain was irrelevant. Pain was pleasure when it came to this man. "Ungh... Dean..." He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed as Dean pressed forward, burying himself completely. Spike clenched his muscles around Dean, gasping at the heat that flooded low in his belly. "I'm so hot for it, hunter. Take me, fuck me," he half-pleaded, half-demanded, pulling slightly away and then back, impaling himself on Dean's rigid cock.

Pure heaven. Pushing inside him, feeling Spike clench and unclench around him, Dean swore Spike felt a little warmer. It was a warm velvet heat that his cock sank into and he bit hard into Spike's shoulder to keep from crying out. He rested inside, reveling at being inside Spike more than letting Spike get used to him. When Spike pumped once against him, his knees practically went weak from the pleasure.

Spike's words drove fresh lust through him and he began to give Spike exactly what he wanted, taking and claiming Spike every time he pistoned inside him. He tried to stroke Spike's thick and dripping cock just right each time he brushed over Spike's prostate. He moved faster and faster, chasing to find his release. The sounds of the crowds outside grew louder and his own breaths seemed to grow louder in his own ears. "Love you, missed you," was all that seemed to come from his mouth between his grunts and groans.

"Yes... bloody fucking... yes," Spike choked out as Dean fucking him hard, propelling him into the door twice before Spike braced himself. He heard the door to the bathroom open, but turned his head and snarled. "Don't you stop hunter, not for anything. Don't stop." He was on fire and if he didn't come now, when it might be their last chance together, he would regret it forever. "Yes, yes," he chanted, adding a "fuck off," to the person who'd come in and made a comment, then left. He didn't care what anyone thought or saw, he didn't even care that Dean might care. He was consumed by a need that was as strong as his bloodlust had ever been.

"Want... want blood..." Spike said, clenching and shuddering around Dean as his lover throbbed against his prostate. "Give me your hand. Just... a little... am in control," he promised, though he was in a state of aroused panic, afraid this would be taken from him before the night was out.

Dean didn't hesitate. He shifted his arm up so Spike could reach his wrist. Sam would probably hate it, but he didn't give a shit. "I'm close," Dean managed to say, warning Spike not to wait.

"Just a taste," Spike answered, gripping Dean's wrist like he was afraid he'd pull it away, but licking the pad of his middle finger. "Fuck me," he demanded, slashing his fang across Dean's finger and covering the wound with his mouth. Lust and pleasure slammed into him so hard he saw white lights dancing behind his eyelids. Moaning wantonly, he fucked Dean's fist and pushed back against his cock, drinking, licking, pressing his tongue against Dean's flesh to coax out a little more of his hot, spicy blood.

Spike's world narrowed suddenly and it was a race to the finish. Their moans and grunts echoed off the bathroom walls, increasing in tempo and volume. Spasms of intense pleasure suddenly raged through Spike with hardly any warning. He shoved himself back against Dean, groaning at the deep penetration as the first rope of cum shot from him, coating the graffiti covered surface of the door.

Dean expected to feel Spike's teeth sink into his wrist and wasn't prepared for the burning cut he felt on his finger, but the way Spike sucked on it was almost as erotic. When Spike suddenly shoved back on Dean's cock sucking hard on his finger as he felt Spike's cum coat his hand, that was it. Dean let out with a wild cry as he shoved in as deep as he could and felt the heat coiling in him suddenly release. He continued pumping through his release even as he continued to stroke his lover, wanting it to be as perfect as it could possibly be for both of them.

"Yes, yes..." Spike hissed, laying his head back on Dean's shoulder and moving with him. reveling in how it felt to have Dean inside him, a part of him. Unconsciously, he pressed on the pad of Dean's finger and licked it again, intensifying even the last waves of his orgasm. He didn't want this to end, he didn't want to acknowledge this was all the time they had together, so he barred those thoughts from his mind and enjoyed what they did have, here and now.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, listening to the crowds, the sound getting louder as someone else walked in and took care of business. Once the guy left, Dean pulled out of him so slowly, Spike wondered if the same thoughts were running through his lover's head.

Using the paper towels next to the sink, Spike quickly cleaned up. Dean was doing the same, and neither of them spoke. Their hands met under the running water, and then Spike was pulling Dean into his arms again and kissing him. This goodbye was nothing like the last one. "Call me. Promise me you'll call me," he demanded between heated kisses. "I don't care if you say nothing, if I just listen to you breathe, know you're on the other end, that you're thinking of me. Promise me."

"I promise," Dean choked out. He knew it went against the bargain he had made with Sam. He would be pissed at Sam if Sam started calling Ruby, but this was different, he argued to himself. He wouldn't talk with Spike. Maybe just tell him he loved him. He had voicemail on his phone. He could leave messages for Spike on his voicemail or something. They could set up a time for Spike to call and he could let it go to voicemail and he could tell Spike what he was doing and how much he thought about him and loved him. God, Spike was turning him into a chick, but he didn't care. He finally pulled away from Spike and worked his ring free of his finger. Taking Spike's hand he put it on Spike's middle finger.

"It's, uh, it's great for opening beers with," Dean said, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled Spike back into a kiss, kissing him so long he was beginning to get light headed from lack of air. He finally broke it off because he had to, not because he wanted to.

The sounds from the bar were changing and obviously a break was happening. The restroom would be filling up again. "C'mon. We better...." Dean gave a nod toward the door. He ran his hand along the side of Spike's face, then let it drop away, wiping at his eyes stinging with tears.

When Dean took Spike's hand, his face grew stoic. He unlatched the door to the stall then headed on out of the bathroom, into the bar, working his way through the crowd. He wasn't going to let Spike go until Sam said he had to.

Sliding around the table and pulling Spike with him, he cleared his throat and picked up his beer, downing about half of it. His eyes went to Sam. "Good show?" he asked, his voice still thick with emotion.

Sam gave a bored shrug in answer but studied his face, then Spike's profile.

Staring at the stage, Spike felt Sam's gaze. He knew that he and Dean were standing very close and that you wouldn't have to be too observant to figure out there was some hand holding going on. He didn't give a fuck. If their time was running out, then it was running out and he'd spend the last few minutes touching Dean. The harder they held hands, the more he was reminded of the presence of Dean's ring on his finger. It was as much a mark as the rune tattoo carved on Spike's shoulder.

"Dean." Sam bumped into him lightly, then nodded toward the vampire. "You want him to hang out with us, he can. It's fine," he said in a low voice.

Dean stared at his younger brother, surprise clear on his face. He was at a loss for words. He wanted to ask what this meant about Ruby, if Sam would still give her up, but he was getting more and more selfish, wanting Spike to stay with him and thinking he'd deal with Sam and Ruby somehow, in a way that didn't cost him Spike. A lot of things came to mind to say but he finally settled on straightening and meeting his brother's gaze square on. "Yeah. I would."

Looking at Spike, he let go of Spike's hand and put his arm around Spike's waist and turning, pulled him close so he was staring down into Spike's face. He felt like his heart was going to burst. He didn't have to give up Spike. He actually could maybe have a little happiness, at least for a little while. He broke into a sudden grin. "So what do you say, you wanna hang with me and Sam?" he asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it, wanting to see the look in Spike's blue eyes.

Spike had tried not to react to Sam's offer, though he'd heard it as it was whispered. But now, now there was no reason to school his features and he gave a broad smile, hardly able to prevent himself from lifting Dean in his arms and kissing him right there. "My reputation is already shot for 'hanging' with goody goods, so why the bloody hell not?" He brought his hands to Dean's sides, held him like that for a moment as they exchanged happy looks, then turned to Sam.

"I'm good at being quiet, you'll hardly notice I'm about," he promised, lying through his teeth, not that it was a secret to either of the two men standing there.

Dean chuckled. "Sure you are," he said, not wanting to let Spike go, but since Spike wasn't going anywhere, he felt he could. He turned back to his beer and studied Sam. "Y'know, I think this calls for a celebration of some sort. I know Jackson has this old theater. It used to have musicals and plays and shit. When we get back to the room, Sam, why don't you look it up, see if it's still open and has anything going on. Half the day tomorrow will be driving, and then leg work. We probably won't have anything we're doing that we can't take a couple hours off from. I wanna do something that you'd enjoy. You're always putting up with my movies and my music. Tomorrow, it's your turn. Whatever you want. You just name it. Even," and here Dean paused and grimaced slightly, "opera or whatever. You just have to explain to me what's going on if that's what we end up doing." He looked at Sam. "I mean it."

Dean found his hand entwining with Spike's without even realizing it until Spike gave his hand a light squeeze.

"Oper--" Spike tried to help Sam make a decision.

"Opera?" Sam echoed Dean, making a face, and then locking gazes with Spike. "You like opera?"

"No, not an opera man at all," Spike quickly denied. "Ah... how about extreme fighting?"

Dean looked over at Spike. "You don't seriously like opera?"

Sam gave a soft snort. "Why not? You like soap operas and Oprah."

"I do not!" Dean protested. "It just...just happens to come up when there's nothing else on. Better than game shows or infomercials. Least they got hot chicks on it usually."

"You like Oprah?" Spike gave Dean a look of disbelief. "What about that other bloke, Jerry Springer? We don't have to watch that, do we?"

"I don't watch Jerry Springer! I don't watch Oprah unless I'm channel surfing and stop because they're talking about something that sounds interesting." Dean's gaze slid between Sam and Spike. "I got a feeling I'm gonna have two people giving me shit instead of just one," he said, finishing off his beer and promptly taking Spike's.

"Just like you don't watch the Love Doctors," Spike and Sam said almost in unison. Surprised looks were exchanged by all three men who laughed and slowly eased into a natural flow of conversation that hadn't been there all day. As loyalties switched, it became very clear to them that each was game and would have to keep on guard for the other two. To Spike, what seemed an impossibility in the morning crystallized into a distinct possibility by nightfall. His luck had turned, and now, he had something to fight for in his life. Not just one person, but two. There was no Dean without Sam, and there was no Sam without Dean, so he'd just have to make sure they were both safe, that was all there was to it. His thumb moved over the ring on his finger and he caught Dean watching him.

Dean gave a small smile and took a drink from the stolen beer. It felt weird not having his ring on, but to see it on Spike, that made him feel good. He saw that Sam's eyes went briefly to the ring and then to Dean's hand where a white band of flesh showed which marked the ring's usual place. There was a little amazement in his eyes as he met Dean's gaze. Dean smirked at him and gave a small shrug.

* * *

Dean had managed to catch Spike off guard when they got back to the motel and carried him over the threshold. "Just proving who the chick is," Dean said and that had Sam laughing while Spike was putting on a show of sputtering indignation.

They switched sleeping arrangements and Spike and Dean took the same bed but Sam threatened to cut their balls off if he heard any signs of sex from their bed because then he'd have to gouge his ears out along with his eyes. He then went on to threaten to make Spike get his own room if they didn't behave. When Spike started to suggest the bathroom instead, one look from Sam shut that idea down before he ever finished his comment.

Dean slept peacefully for the first time in a week, wrapped in Spike's arms.

The drive to Jackson was filled with laughter and teasing and occasional lulls in conversation. It being daytime, Spike fell into vampiric sleep for a few hours and the brothers quickly discovered nothing woke him up. Good for his word, Dean let Sam listen to the music he wanted. Sam cut him some slack and played music he knew Dean wouldn't positively hate.

Sam had found the theater was still operating and got them tickets to see 'The Man of La Mancha.' Though they were in the middle of research, Spike had talked both brothers into taking the time off to go see the show. Dean quickly decided he was Don Quixote, Sam was Sancho Panza the sidekick, which he changed to 'Samcho Pansy', Spike was Dulcinea del Tabasco (instead of Toboso since Spike was so hot) and the Impala was obviously Rocinante, Quixote's horse, which he changed to 'Roxy.'

Afterwards, when they returned to the motel, Spike yanked Dean out of the room, announcing loudly, "I'm just borrowing Don Quixote here, have to feed him some tabasco, yeah?"

Sam's utter disgust and shout of "too much information" as he slammed the door after them had the pair laughing as they made their way to the roof where they could trade blow jobs undisturbed. Spike's motto was there could never be 'too much sex' between him and Dean. In fact, as the days wore on, it became clear that too little sex ended up as trouble in the form of all night long torture when they were in bed together and had to behave. Sometimes it was impossible, but Sam was a light sleeper and his sighs or the change in his breathing would make it clear he was awake, putting a stop to any bed play either he or Dean started.

Three days later, they'd solved the missing persons case. Sam admitted that they worked well together and that it wasn't bad having Spike around. Instinctively, all three of them gave room and space to the other two at different times. Spike often told Sam and Dean to get lost and do the 'brothers thing' because he needed sleep or gave some other excuse. Sam unsubtly gave them space so they could have sex or 'whatever' was his comment when he saw evidence of leather ties on the bed post. Even Dean disappeared once in a while, wanting Spike and Sam to bond, though he was irritated when Spike wouldn't give him the blow by blow details of what they'd talked about and he knew it related to Ruby, and to the time Sam had been alone.

Spike's blood lust was under complete control. He fed mostly on mixes of human and cow blood, with just a little of Dean's blood making anything go down well. Leery of turning Dean into some sort of blood doll, he kept real bite play to a minimum and took his donations from Dean either from small cuts or in a vial he could use over a number of days. Once, when he was drinking straight from a bag and Sam walked in, he felt the weight of Sam's gaze and looked back at him. He'd expected disgust, but instead saw something in Sam's eyes that he couldn't explain. It couldn't be lust; that made no sense.

Another few days passed and Dean had another one of his sleep walking episodes. Sam had been horrified watching his brother straddle Spike's hips and wave an imaginary knife around as he explained in graphic detail how he was going to cut and slice and separate skin and flesh and muscle, how he was going to paint the bed in blood.

Spike had calmly told Sam to lie to Dean, to tell Dean that Dean was hurting Sam, that he needed to protect Sam. It hadn't taken long for Sam to convince Dean that was what was happening, and then Dean had curled up next to Spike again as if nothing had happened.

The next day, Spike and Sam had coffee while waiting for Dean to get back from an errand. When they'd talked about what Spike had called Dean's 'bloodlust,' he got a strange vibe from Sam. Suddenly he seemed on edge. Maybe it wasn't so strange; this was, after all, his brother who was a little out of control in sleep.

* * *

Dean ended the call and looked at Sam. "That was Bobby. He wants us to come see him. I asked if he had anything new for us about the apocalypse and he made a crack about us being too busy to 'come see an old man.' Besides I kinda would like to get the low down on how the vampire nest thing went a few weeks back. We got anything pressing on the hunting front?"

"Nope, all's quiet," Sam answered. "You thinking on stopping by?"

There was a short silence, one that Spike noticed as he was smoking in the doorway. He understood it well. Hunters and vampires didn't mix. "Go. I can meet up with you after, or if you're staying long, maybe we can have a quick and dirty meet up while Sam keeps him busy," he suggested, trying to sound casual as he blew out a puff of smoke.

"No," Dean said firmly. "We just gotta figure out when to tell him. He's gonna be freaked twice over. One, I'm with a guy, two, the guy's a vampire." Dean looked over at Sam. "How fast do you think he'll figure it out? I mean, you don't think Bobby will be able to tell right off do you? We'll have time to explain, you think? Before Bobby gets all issued with Spike being a vampire?"

"The moment he hears you're with him, he'll give Spike holy water," Sam ventured. "I don't know, maybe..." his gaze went to Spike.

"S'alright, I've been there before with the Slayer. Hunters and vampires don't mix and your friends won't understand. Do what you need, yeah?" Spike stepped outside and leaned against the wall, taking another puff. For a long time, he'd let Buffy sweep him under the rug. He would do the same for the hunter. This man, Bobby, he was important to Dean, that much Spike knew.

Sam let out a breath and looked at Dean. "It's your call, man. I dunno, maybe it's better. At least to break it to him first."

"I'm not ashamed of Spike or of being with him. He's a hunter too, goddammit. He's faced apocalypses before, and he's got a hundred and fifty years experience, even if most of it was on the wrong side of the coin. He's with us now. Worked with a Slayer, even. That's gotta count for something. Hell, gotta count for a lot. He knows shit about all sorts of demons I've never even heard of. He can go places hunters can't go, like demon bars, maybe get scoops we can't." Dean exhaled. "Okay, let's head to Bobby's. I think...I think maybe we better not give him a heads up about Spike until we get there. He'll look into Spike's history like you did and come to all the wrong conclusions. I'll call him tomorrow and let him know we're headed there and we got a new member on the team, and tell him...tell him it's a guy and...okay it's gonna be weird telling Bobby I'm in love with Spike. We'll just tell him we got a new guy hanging with us and we'll explain everything when we get there." He looked at Sam, still a little unsure. "What do you think?"

"I think Bobby will want to know if she's hot and where you met her," Sam grinned. "And I'm gonna have the time of my life watching you explain it to him. And that's all before we get to the vampire part." Sam drummed his fingers lightly on the table. "Look, it's never going to be easy, not with us being hunters, but it's just the way it is. Hell, they have other reasons they hate us anyway," he added. Ever since they'd opened the hell gate, they weren't real popular with the hunting community. And then hunters had found out about him being groomed by yellow eyes and now many of them thought of him as the Anti-Christ.

Dean glared at him. "Yeah, I'm sure you are. But I'll have Spike there to help me. He's good at saying things. Must be the poet in him. Okay," Dean took a deep breath. "We'll figure it out as we go, but I'm not letting Spike just," Dean waved his hand, "think I'm ashamed of him or being with him. And like you, Bobby will learn to deal. Hell, if Spike can win you over, Bobby should be...okay, just as hard. Still, Spike'll do it. Like you said, it's just the way it is and me being with Spike is part of that now," Dean said firmly.

"It's not fun thinking you might be the one to play black sheep instead of favorite son for once, is it?" Sam got up and walked to Dean and slapped him on the shoulder. "Bobby's bark is worse than his bite. It'll be fine, especially if Spike's as good at making pancakes as he keeps claiming." He rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna go get some stuff for the ice chest." He gave a silent nod toward the door, then grabbed his keys and wallet and walked out, stopping only to find out if Spike needed anything.

Dean knew Sam was right. It would be okay, but yeah it was weird feeling a little out of his depth. But hell, he'd felt out of his depth ever since he found out an angel yanked him out of Hell. It was going to be uncomfortable telling Bobby about Spike and he was afraid of what Bobby might say and that he might upset Spike. Okay, he was nervous as hell about it, but he could worry about that tomorrow. Right now Sam was gone, and indicated he'd be gone for a bit. With that in mind, Dean stripped out of his shirts and pulled off his boots.

He spoke in a normal tone. "If you don't get your butt in here, I'm going to have to jack myself off. I'd much rather have you do it."

Spike tossed his cigarette out into the gutter and walked inside, eyes fixed on Dean as he closed the door behind him. Peeling his leather duster off and tossing it over the back of a chair, he crossed in front of Dean and unbuckled his belt, tugging on it with enough force to make the hunter take an involuntary step. He unzipped him, then leaned in to slant his mouth over Dean's as he pushed his pants and shorts down his hips.

He didn't linger, he just pushed Dean down to make him sit on the edge of the bed, then dropped down to the ground between Dean's legs. Closing his hand around Dean's dick, he started to squeeze and stroke slowly, an electric jolt traveling up from his hand when Dean started to get hard.

Dean made a sound of complaint when Spike broke off the kiss but when Spike's hand wrapped around his dick, he gave a soft moan. Shit, that felt good. Spike's touch sent shivers of pleasure through him, and he wasn't sure it would have mattered where Spike touched him. Where his hand was right now was good though, damned good. Dean had jacked himself off plenty of times, been jacked off by a girl plenty of times too, but Spike's touch was different. It was perfect. Simply perfect. "God I love how you do that," Dean murmured. "You put a fire inside me with just your touch."

"You are my fire," Spike simply answered, stroking a little faster and taking in Dean's every reaction. He could hear his heart rate kick up a notch and his breaths grow harsher. Giving one of his closed mouth smiles, Spike leaned in and kissed Dean's stomach, sucking his skin into his mouth and giving him a nip. Dean's shudder echoed through his own body, sending a delicious ache straight to his cock.

Like Spike's touch, Spike always seemed to know what to say to Dean to make it better. He loved that Spike loved him so much. It was so odd to have someone trying to take care of him. He had always looked after his dad, after Sam, after everyone but himself. He looked to strangers to give him pleasure, strangers who he wouldn't have to find himself taking care of. But he didn't have to take care of Spike. It was shared, looking out for each other, and he had seen Spike looking out for Sam too. He wasn't alone in that task any more either.

He stroked Spike's hair, looking down at him. "Love you. You're perfect, you know that?" Dean said, then gave a sudden thrust when Spike gave a little extra twist of the wrist. Anything else Dean thought about saying was lost in the groan of pleasure.

Perfect. Spike lifted his face up. "Almost," he agreed. It had been a long, long time since he'd last wished he was human. Dean made him want it for many reasons. To be accepted and not to have to be explained away, that was one of them. But another was he didn't want to watch his lover grow old and die on him. It was inevitable, in every vampire-human relationship he'd seen, either the human couldn't accept that the their perfectly preserved vampire love could want to be with them after they aged, or the vampire moved on. It was why the best solution was usually to turn your lover, but Dean... Spike knew he'd never go for it.

Dean began to thrust into Spike's stroking hand. "Mmm, don't see, uhn, where, oh God, where you're not perfect," Dean panted as he put his hands on Spike's shoulders and began to thrust harder.

"Touch my heart, that's where." Spike closed his eyes and moved his other hand between Dean's legs to squeeze his balls, playing with them and hissing slightly when Dean's skin pulled tighter across them. The sound of Dean's breaths, his heart beats, the rush of his blood, it was all like a song to Spike. A song he'd committed to memory and would never forget.

"I did," Dean said, knowing exactly what Spike meant, that his heart didn't beat, that he wasn't human. "If you...weren't who...you are...you wouldn't...have touched...mine," Dean said between needy thrusts of pleasure. If Spike hadn't been a vampire, Dean would have died in that nest. Or he'd have practically killed Spike with the way he cut him that night at the motel. Spike understood him in a way that no one else could, not even Sam. It gave them a bond. Dean didn't have to push him away to protect him. Spike could protect himself. Dean didn't have to worry about him and watch out for him. Spike loved him, loved his imperfect and worthless soul, made him feel special and even worthy, because Spike was too beautiful inside and out to give himself over to something worthless. "Mine can beat...for both...of us," he told Spike.

"And now you're a poet," Spike whispered, soaking up Dean's words, wanting, needing to believe them at soul-level.

Dean's thrusting was growing harder and faster and he knew he was getting close. "Take me...in...your mouth," Dean begged, wanting to feel that tongue and mouth on his rock hard cock, wanting to come down his lover's throat.

Opening his eyes, Spike smirked. "Thought it was a wanking you wanted."

He didn't give Dean time to answer and didn't torture him by making him wait. Grabbing the hunter's thighs, he raised them up, hooking Dean's legs over his shoulders and leaned forward, running his mouth over Dean's rock hard cock. Grasping it again with one hand, he licked the hunter's balls a few times, pulsing his tongue in that sensitive area between his sack and cock, then guided his crown straight into his mouth.

Knowing Dean was close, he pressed his thumb into the base of his cock to delay his release while he made love to every inch of his satin covered steel length. He sucked Dean's tip hard and fast, then concentrated his tongue on his slit, tongue fucking it. When his lover bucked, he opened his mouth wide and went down on him, taking every inch of Dean. Moving up and down, matching Dean's increasingly desperate thrusts, Spike released the pressure point and used his thumb to stroke his lover's balls, moaning as he felt the skin stretch taut over them.

Dean didn't care who heard him as his groans filled the room. Spike never ceased to amaze him when it came to a blow job. When he felt Spike press and prevent him from coming though, he thought he was going to die. He was thrashing under his lover's expert attention, begging for Spike to let him come. No matter how fast or how hard, he couldn't release. When that pressure finally eased on his cock, he went at it full bore, thrusting fast and hard into his lover's throat, his cries growing in volume as he got closer and closer.

The wave hit him all at once, an explosive release into Spike's mouth and throat as he cried out his lover's name. The orgasm shook him again and again until he finally sank back onto the bed, feeling the cool sheen of sweat on his body. Every time Spike sucked a bit on his cock, Dean gave a soft groan and small thrust. "Yer killin' me," he gasped.

Only after he'd licked and sucked Dean dry did Spike let his cock to slip out of his mouth. Dean's legs dropped off his shoulders, allowing Spike to lean more completely over Dean and kiss him. It was a slow burning kiss, the sort Spike had learned Dean loved, most likely because lately they'd had to have rushed sex and Dean liked to be contrary. He moved his hands over Dean's body slowly, lovingly, worshiping every plane and angle. When he broke their kiss, his eyes glowed with a different heat. "I'm hungry."

"You are, are you?" Dean said, his eyes filled with after sex haze and euphoria. He saw the look in Spike's intense blue eyes. Research had told them Dean couldn't give more than a pint or so every fifty days because it could take that long for red blood cells to replenish themselves. Dean was making sure to take vitamins and plenty of iron, so they figured they could push it a bit. Besides, it wasn't like Spike was going to drink that much from him in one shot, not since he had his bloodlust well under control.

"And what are you hungry for, vampire?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me what you want," he said as he began caressing Spike's body and teasingly tilting his head a little to expose his throat, only to shift and expose a different part of his throat.

"Oh God..." Spike groaned and licked Dean's throat. "You, want you. But we'll save this," he dragged his finger over the artery in Dean's throat, "for when we have time. Get dressed. I'll feed from your wrist," he said thickly, already imagining Dean's blood pulsing in his mouth.

"Damn," Dean muttered, but knew Spike was probably right. He really didn't want Sam walking in on them again with them both naked and Spike's fangs buried in his throat and his cock up Dean's ass. Dean pulled on his clothes and even his shoes since they would be leaving soon, then sat down on the bed and scooted back. He motioned Spike to sit in front of him. Sliding up close against the vampire's back, he began sucking on Spike's neck and running his hands under Spike's shirt. He finally pulled his left hand out and offered his wrist up to Spike.

Spike gave a soft moan at the sensations running through him from the ways Dean touched him. "You're the one whose killing me, hunter," he said, curling Dean's arm around his face and pressing his mouth against his inner forearm. He rubbed his mouth back and forth, teasing himself with listening to the sound of Dean's rushing blood and breathing in his scent. He raked his teeth down to the spot a few inches above Dean's wrist and bit down with no warning, cleanly breaking Dean's skin with his sharp fangs. He gripped Dean's wrist and forearm, and closing his eyes, starting to drink.

Hot, spicy blood spurted into Spike's mouth, and not just any blood, it was Dean's. Groaning, Spike sucked harder, leaning back against Dean's muscular chest, his head resting against Dean's shoulder and letting Dean watch how his blood affected Spike.

Dean drew a sharp breath when Spike's teeth sank into flesh. He loved the tease as much as he loved it when Spike surprised him. He watched Spike's face and could see the pure ecstasy Spike was in as he drank Dean's blood. One look at Spike's groin and Spike was obviously feeling ecstasy in more ways than one, but Dean was used to that now. He reached down and caressed Spike lightly, then pushed the heel of his hand into Spike's groin, giving the vampire the pressure he knew Spike needed. Feeling Spike's teeth in him gave Dean his own thrill and even after the 'wanking' and blowjob, his own cock perked up some. He groaned softly, the sensations filling him like nothing else. Spike had told him of the dangers of becoming addicted to being fed from, so he usually let Spike decide when enough time had passed, even if it killed him sometimes and he wanted to feel the bite of those teeth so badly.

He still had his own desires to mark Spike's flesh, but often the sight of the rune on Spike's shoulder was enough. He had done a little cutting sometimes, when they were both in agreement, though Spike never seemed to mind. They'd used the safeword sometimes, just so Dean could time and again prove to himself he was in control and could stop. He understood though how it felt for Spike when he knew he had to stop drinking. Spike never wanted to, but he would, because he had to.

Dean kissed Spike's temple, pressing himself even closer to the vampire.

The doorknob rattled suddenly and Dean pulled his hand from Spike's groin. He let out with a small sound of complaint when Spike dug his teeth in a little deeper, unhappy to have lost the touch on his cock.

"Sam's here," Dean whispered in Spike's ear as the door swung open. They both knew Sam wasn't crazy about seeing Spike drink from Dean.

Spike's fingers curled more tightly around Dean's arm as he took a little more blood, unable to stop on a dime. The loss of pressure on his cock was bad enough. "Mmm," he forced his eyes open, telling himself he had to release Dean now.

He'd expected disgust on Sam's face, or even to see him storm into the bathroom or turn on the telly. Instead, once again he saw what he could only describe as lust in that boy's eyes.

The shopping bags in Sam's hands dropped to the ground and Sam rushed out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15

Sam's reaction to seeing them like this snapped Spike out of his euphoria like nothing else could have. He retracted his fangs and blindly searched the nightstand for the bandages they kept nearby. Licking Dean's wrist clean, he slapped a large-sized bandaid over the wound, turned and kissed him quickly, then got off the bed. "I'll talk to him."

Dean wanted to follow after but the look in Spike's eyes clearly told him he wanted Dean to stay put. His gaze cut to the door, then back to Spike. Reluctantly he nodded. "Okay, but if you two aren't back in five minutes, I'm coming out."

Giving a nod, Spike walked out the door and found Sam leaning against the wall a few doors away from their room. Approaching him, he could hear Sam's heart pumping much faster than normal. He searched his face and noticed the thin sheen of perspiration dampening his skin. He couldn't read Sam's eyes because they were closed, but he saw Sam was breathing through his mouth, like he couldn't get enough air.

"Talk to me," Spike said. "This isn't because you hate what I'm doing to Dean."

"I-I don't like seeing you bite him, that's all," Sam said, turning and pressing his forehead against the cool stone of the building. He felt the slight tremors in his body and ground his teeth, trying to stop them. "Just...just pack up and we can get on the road," Sam said, wishing Spike would just go away until he got himself under control.

"Your hand is shaking, Sam. Your entire body is shaking." After a pause Spike said quietly, "I know pain, mate, and you're in it." He cocked his head then touched Sam's forehead. His sweat was cold, there was no fever. "What's going on?" he asked, a few suspicions forming in his mind. "Whatever it is, there's no reason for you to try to handle it alone, yeah?"

"I don't need your help!" Sam snapped at him as he pulled away from the vampire's touch. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone. Go back to drinking from Dean or whatever." Sam squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to rid himself of the image of Spike's mouth on Dean's wrist, sucking tangy fresh blood into his mouth. He trembled violently as the pain of need shot through him.

"I'm not going anywhere, not leaving you like this," Spike countered, his gaze narrowing. "You either need to give blood or need to take it, now which is it?" he demanded. The short silence wore out Spike's limited patience. Without a by-your-leave, he ripped Sam's over-shirt off and inspected his arms, then dragged the collar of his tee shirt away from his body to see if there were the bruises or bite marks he'd expect a blood doll to have.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sam said, trying to push Spike away but Spike's grip was iron. Seeing Spike look at his neck, his eyes narrowed. "I'm not jealous or looking for a way to find the same rush Dean gets when you drink from him. Are we done now?" he demanded, trying to stop himself from shaking. It was finally beginning to ease some and he felt more in control.

"Done, maybe." Spike let him go. "I'm part demon, you know. If you want anything, you let me know." He wasn't sure, not a hundred percent, but he knew what it would feel like if he were in bloodlust and Dean were next to him. Sam couldn't hide it for long. "Get yourself a cold drink. I'll pack," he said and walked away, knowing just like his older brother, the younger Winchester was not one to get pushed into anything until he was ready.

Sam watched the vampire as he left. ...Part demon He shuddered. Not in need this time, but in disgust. Disgust with himself for having let himself get so far out of control. He had agreed not to use his abilities. Without using his abilities, he didn't think he'd have any need for Ruby's blood. ...He was wrong. He had almost called her a half dozen times, but he had made a deal with Dean. It didn't matter that he'd later let Dean change the agreement and hang out with Spike. It had always been clear to him that Dean would give Spike up all over again if he had to, to keep Sam from Ruby.

Admittedly, Sam found he liked Spike. The vampire sort of grew on you. There was no doubt in his mind at this point that Spike and Dean were in love and, there was also no doubt, that Dean deserved a little happiness after everything he had gone through and everything that was yet to come.

Maybe he could ask Dean if it was all right to call Ruby, to see her. He could just tell Dean he missed her a little and since Spike and Dean got time, what was wrong with him getting a little time with her? Of course, he had told Dean he was just using her so Dean would say it wasn't the same. Dammit... He hadn't gotten laid since before their agreement and he missed the sex, but more, he missed what he got when they had sex: her blood. He didn't need to tell Dean that, though. Sighing, Sam ran his hand through his hair as he headed down to the soda machine to get a Dr. Pepper which would prove as no substitute for his real cravings.

*

Spike walked into the motel room and met Dean's eyes. "It's not about you and me. I think he'll tell us what it is about when he's ready." He started to pack the last of their belongings and couldn't bring himself to share his suspicions. They just might break Dean all over again, though he couldn't ignore them if they were true.

Dean frowned but even in just this short time with Spike, he had grown to trust Spike's instincts. Spike was able to talk with both of them, the brothers telling Spike things they couldn't express to each other, at least not since Dean had come back from hell. There were still secrets, no doubt, but the secrets weren't eating them up anymore. Someone knew. Someone who didn't judge, someone they could trust to keep their secrets and when the time was right, could help them get those secrets out in the open. Or if the secrets were too much and were causing hurt in some way, Spike had a way of telling the secrets without it seeming like a betrayal and made the secrets seem a little less horrible.

Taking the bags of food Sam had brought, Dean put some of the items into the ice chest. He chuckled a little when he noticed that all the foods that could be 'fortified with iron' were the ones that Sam bought. And he'd bought more iron pills. Dean was relieved to know that whatever Sam's issue was, it wasn't about him and Spike.

"Subtle, isn't he?" Spike asked, seeing what Dean was laughing about.

Dean grinned. "He does stuff like this. Just doesn't say anything. He knows I notice though. A brother thing I guess. Always kinda been that way. He knows I don't do chick-flick crap." He gave Spike a glare. "You're an exception and I don't want to hear any damned cracks about it."

"I like my women feisty," Spike responded, grabbing the bags. Seeing the dark look in Dean's eyes, he stepped forward and grabbed his jacket, dragging him close. "And my men strong, confident, and horny," he said between kisses. "And I'm still hungry. Can we go to a drive-through and get a burger?"

"Strong, confident and horny. Yeah, yeah, and oh yeah." He gave Spike a strange look at Spike's request and shook his head. "I didn't think vampires ate as much human food as you seem to be. And I didn't think human food satisfied your hunger."

"I get these..." Spike paused, then looked into Dean's eyes. "It must be your fault, these cravings. You like meat and onions and bacon. It's your blood, it's corrupting me, that's what."

Dean laughed. "You're making that up."

Spike shrugged. "What other explanation is there?" Turning, he walked out, pondering the point but deciding it didn't matter. Seeing Sam had the trunk open, he loaded the bags he'd brought out. "Looks like we're going to have to feed your brother's big appetite. There'll probably be lots of onions involved," he said, slapping Sam's back and grinning at the younger Winchester's groan. "Right, don't worry, we'll get you some lettuce-wrapped alfalfa sprouts, yeah?"

"You're hilarious. Jerk."

"Wanker," Spike answered without missing a beat as he got into the car.

* * *

Please. I need it. PLEASE.

He knew better. He had to resist. To fight it. He had to beat this or he'd lose everything. He'd lose Dean. He'd lose Bobby. He'd lose Spike. He might lose himself.

Water, he needed water. His throat was parched and his skin felt clammy, both icy and fiery-hot all at once. There was a cure, Ruby, but fuck... he couldn't go to her. He'd promised. He'd promised Dean. When he heard his phone ring he knew it was her. It rang and rang and rang until he couldn't stand it any more and, closing his hand around the phone, he threw it out the window. As it slipped from his fingers he shouted "No!" and tried to grab it back, but it was too late. The phone was gone. The number was gone. Ruby was gone.

Breaths. He had to take deep breaths. He could handle this. He would handle this. All he had to do was find a demon. 

Suddenly, the day dream was over and Sam was in the back seat of the Impala. Dean was driving, his hand drumming a beat on the steering wheel. Spike was in the passenger seat, staring out the window. I'm part demon, you know.... Spike's voice taunted him, over and over again.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed. He'd seen blood on the sheets. Knew Dean had cut Spike. He'd brought the sheets to his nose and taken deep breaths, felt the power, felt salvation, then rage. The blood had long since dried. It was useless.

Fire raged inside him, burning every cell, burning his soul. He started to shake. He felt his heart stutter, like he was going to die. He didn't want to die. He needed to live, he couldn't leave Dean! That's why it was right. That's why he should get some, drink a little, only a little. For Dean.

*

They were outside, sitting at a burger joint. Dean went to get their food. Spike was resting his arm on the table, looking toward the food counters. Sam's hand tightened around the silver dagger dipped in dead man's blood. He had to do this. For Dean, for Dean, for Dean. His heart rammed harder against his chest, his temperature rose, his body hurting from the inside out. For Dean, he told himself again.

Slicing the dagger through the air, he brought it down, stabbing it through Spike's forearm, pinning it to the wooden table. The vampire's shout of pain didn't move him, but the rivulets of blood flowing from the wound did. Dipping his head down, he licked and swallowed and drank, ignoring Spike's pleas, his warnings about Dean seeing him like this. Nothing mattered, nothing but the blood and the hole it filled inside him, nothing...

"Sam, what the fuck!"

The instant Dean pulled him off, Sam reached out and grabbed the hilt of the dagger, pulled it out of Spike and drove it into Dean's chest. "For you, I'm doing it for..."

Dean dropped to his knees, blood staining his clothes. His eyes freezing as he looked back at his brother.

*

Sam shouted and slapped his hand on the window frame as he sat up. "Dean... Spike..." He took a couple of breaths as he oriented himself. Dean was pulling into Bobby's yard, he was fine, just fine. Spike was in the back seat, also fine. Exhausted, in pain, and relieved, Sam slumped against the window.

Dean looked over at his brother. Sam had fallen asleep a few hours ago after they had dinner. He'd slept quietly in the beginning but he'd begun to get restless, muttering a few things under his breath in the last half hour. He'd quiet down, then get restless and agitated again. Spike told Dean to let Sam sleep. It took a lot of willpower on his part to do just that. Still, back when Sam had just lost Jessica, Sam had nightmares all the time and Dean had let him sleep through them, hoping that with enough nightmares Sam would open up and talk about it, get it all off his chest. He finally had. Hopefully this would be the case as well, but he didn't like the way Sam was coated in sweat, or the paleness of his skin that now rivaled Spike's.

"Dude, you okay?" Dean asked, concern clear in his voice. Whatever was eating Sam was getting worse and he knew it. He wished Sam would just tell them, but pushing Sam just made him clam up. It was a Winchester trait.

"Yeah. Fine," he said, sounding a little breathless. He looked out the window and met Spike's gaze in the mirror. "No. I'm really not," he said, jaw tight. He opened the door and got out, then leaned against the car and took deep breaths. Fuck, fuckity fuck. He'd thought he could make it, just kick the habit.

Spike got out of the car at the same time Dean got out, and they flanked Sam, waiting.

Dean wanted to tell Sam it didn't matter, whatever it was, it didn't matter. But he had kept his secrets from Sam because it mattered to him that Sam didn't know. He didn't want Sam to know, didn't want to see his brother's brow creased, and his sad eyes ridden with guilt and sympathy. It was likely the same for Sam. He wanted to try to bear the burden of his troubles alone because he was afraid of Dean's reaction to his secret. Silently, Dean vowed he would only give Sam support, not sympathy and not anger. And if that wasn't enough, fuck it, he'd give Sam whatever he could and just do his best. He'd be the big brother Sam had once upon a time trusted and looked to for help.

Spike gave Sam an encouraging nod, but didn't prod him.

"My...abilities," Sam finally said, "I get them because of the demon blood."

"Because Yellow Eyes fed you blood when you were a baby," Dean said. "The abilities went away but started up again."

Spike put his hand across Sam's body and flat against Dean's stomach, to make him stop talking and listen.

Sam shook his head and felt like he was going to be sick. "No, they didn't just magically reappear, Dean. I've been," Sam took a deep breath. He didn't want to say it. He really fucking didn't want to say it. "I've been drinking demon blood," he said in a rush. "It gives me my powers."

Dean stared at Sam trying to process Sam's admission. His first reaction was what the fuck were you thinking? His second was his desire to tear that little bitch Ruby into as many pieces as he could and he almost demanded to know the obvious - had Sam been drinking her blood.

Seeing Spike's face, Dean just barely bit back all the accusations and words ready to tumble out. Here he was in love with a vampire and got off on Spike drinking from him. Wasn't like he really had room to talk. Blood dolls got addicted to being bit. Did demon blood... was it addictive?

Sam was shaking again. He didn't know if he was hot or cold, or if he was coming or going. He almost hoped Dean would clock him. That's what he needed, to be knocked out. It's what Dean was going to do anyway, but Sam wasn't going to fight him.

After taking a deep breath Dean gave a nod. "Okay. Guess there's two choices. You continue to stay hooked on the demon blood and have abilities that you're going to want to use that you shouldn't. Or we help you get clean. You know what I want Sam. What do you want? Not what do you need, but what do you want?" He hated asking the question when all he wanted to do was rip Sam a new one for being so God-damned stupid. How could he though when he still had his own addiction to wanting to hurt his lover with knives or any other weapon within reach? Spike had his own bloodlust that he had to keep under control, too. God, they were a fucked up threesome.

"I don't know," Sam said, gripping the roof of the car. "I don't know Dean. Stop... stop... Goddammit, I said I don't know!"

Seeing a flash of anger in Dean's eyes, Spike put his shoulder under Sam's arm. "Help me get him inside, he's hallucinating. Can't make any bloody decisions like this. Dean, help your brother." It would have been easy for Spike to carry Sam alone, but they needed this, both Winchester's needed to be there for each other, whether they realized it or not.

Dean followed Spike's orders almost without thought. This was his little brother in trouble. He remembered the hallucinations right before he went to hell, and when he got that damned ghost fever. Hallucinations sucked out loud. "Bobby's got a panic room. We can keep him down there, keep him under control," Dean said.

"Bobby!" Dean yelled as they got Sam to the door. "Sam's sick. We need to take him to the panic room."

"What's wrong with him," Bobby rumbled as he hurried them inside.

"Demon blood. He's addicted," Dean said somewhere between pissed as hell and scared out of his mind.

Bobby's eyes widened momentarily, but he lead the way, opening the door to the basement and heading down the stairs to the panic room.

Glancing over at Spike, Dean wondered suddenly if Spike was going to be able to go inside. If he couldn't that was going to be awkward to explain to Bobby. He already wasn't looking forward to explaining that he and Spike were together. So far, he'd hedged and told Bobby the new member of the team was named William and that he'd explain everything when they got there.

Spike wondered about the look he was getting from Dean. If the situation hadn't been so serious, he might have asked if his fangs were showing or something. Helping get Sam into the room, he looked around at the symbols and the heavy steel door. "Paranoia or war zone?" he asked as he helped Sam to the cot. "He's burning up. Let's get him some water, yeah?" he said to the older man, trying to take his measure without being too obvious about it.

Bobby pulled a gallon container off the shelf and grabbed a plastic cup. "Here. I'll go upstairs and get some ice for the fever." He was giving the stranger a once over and could tell the stranger was doing the same. He hadn't expected the man to have an English accent. He damned near dropped the plastic cup when he saw Dean's ring on the man's finger. He glanced between the two men, but now wasn't the time for questions. Bobby grabbed a small cooler he had in the basement and carried it out of the room.

"I wasn't sure you'd be able to walk in here," Dean said quietly to Spike. "I'm really glad you could for a whole lot of reasons. Have you ever dealt with demon blood addiction before?"

"Personally? No. But I know...." he held Sam up so he could drink, then lowered him onto the cot again, noting that his eyes were glazed over. "Dean, if he attacks me, it's not his fault. He can't hurt me," he reminded his lover. "I put into his head that I have demon blood." He raised his hand to stop the stem of any angry words Dean had for him. "I didn't know for sure he was addicted but thought if he is, then it's better he tries to get it from me than from Ruby. I also thought it might push him to admit his problem," he said, unsure if he'd been right or wrong.

Dean clenched his teeth, debating if he wanted to throttle Spike or not. Instead he licked his lips and forced himself to keep his temper under control, though it was a definite strain on him. "All right. So. Cold Turkey, wean him off, what? You have enough demon in you to even help him? I mean you could walk in here and no demon should be able to do that. I'll be damned if I'm gonna call Ruby. I want that bitch dead for turning my brother into a fucking junkie."

Spike gave a nod. "We get Sam cleaned up and he can lure her. You think he would?" He didn't know all the dynamics there, whether Sam had any feelings for the demon or if he was truly just using her. "We'll take care of that later," he said seeing his question seemed to be getting Dean even more incensed. "From what I've heard, once you have physical signs of withdrawal, it takes about three days of staying off the stuff, resisting the urge, to have a chance at breaking free of it. Cold turkey can result in a shock to the system and death, though."

Death? Dean felt a cold chill go through him. No, dammit, no. "Your blood, what if we gave him a little and just slowly got him off of it? Can that work? I get it'll take longer, but...I can't lose Sam, Spike. I just can't. I didn't go to Hell for forty years to come back and have him die on me again."

"I've never... I don't know, what with the soul and then turning into a daywalking vampire. Look, we'll try. If it doesn't work, then we go hunting for demons." He gave Dean a steely looking. "We're not going to let him die. I'd feed him every last drop of your Ruby's blood before I let that happen, yeah?"

Dean gave a nod, but sheer fury filled him. Ruby did this to Sam. Sam let Ruby do this to him. Sam promised Dean he wouldn't walk that path and he did anyhow. Everything seemed to boil up inside him. He wanted to go out to the junk yard and just start filling shit full of holes with his 9mm. Sam needed him though. His hallucinations seemed to be getting worse. "I guess we better get some restraints on him before he hurts himself, or one of us, or tries to take off."

Spike looked over at Sam who seemed to be sweating even more and was thrashing around, waving his hand as if he was fighting something or someone. Across the room, there was metal shelving with supplies. He went to get the lengths of rope, but when he brought them back and started to reach for Sam's arm, he sighed and didn't follow through. "I'll watch him. Hold him down, tie him only if it becomes necessary," he said.

"Let's at least get the ropes set up so we can do it quickly if he gets out of control," Dean insisted. He didn't want to tie his brother down either, but Spike said at least three days. Spike couldn't stay awake that entire time. Although Spike was strong, Dean had certainly knocked the vampire on his ass. Sam could catch Spike off guard as well and if he used his powers, there was a good chance no one could stop him.

"Don't know why, but I'd rather tie you up," Spike muttered. Probably because he thought Sam wasn't like either of them that way. Still he got the ropes ready on one side of the bed, exchanging a look with Dean as he heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. "I think he likes me."

"You'd rather tie me up because I'm more fun," Dean said. Glancing toward the door, Dean gave a smirk, "I don't think Bobby swings that way."

"Maybe if I take his blood..." Spike smirked, enjoying the heat in Dean's eyes. Without looking away, he put the flat of his hand over Sam's chest, holding him in place as Sam started to try to get up.

"I don't think Bobby'd be happy," Dean said giving Spike a definite warning glare.

Bobby walked in with the ice. "This should help. There's some towels and washcloths over there." He gave a nod toward the shelves. Seeing the ropes, he gave a slow shake of his head and strode over to a metal trunk. Pulling out some leather restraints that were padded, he returned. "Use these if you really need to tie him down. Ropes won't be good if he starts struggling."

After Bobby helped Dean get the restraints set up, he gave Dean a slap on the shoulder. "C'mon, I think William here can handle Sam for a few minutes while you help me scare up some sandwiches and get some coffee brewing. I got a feelin' it's gonna be one long night."

Knowing full well Bobby wanted to talk to him about Spike, Dean looked over at the vampire. "You be okay for about ten minutes?" He hated leaving Sam, but he might as well get the conversation over and done with. If Spike started giving Sam blood and Bobby was in the dark about Spike, he had a feeling it wouldn't go over well. Not that Spike being a vampire was going to thrill Bobby in the first place.

Spike gave a nod. "We'll be fine." He looked between Bobby and Dean, then told himself it wasn't like when Dean had to choose between himself and Sam. Even if the man ordered him to stay away, Dean would... Right, he wasn't that sure about anything. "Go on then." It didn't escape him that Bobby had called him William. He supposed it did sound more respectable.

Bobby was already at the door, turning to see what was keeping Dean.

After another moment of hesitation, his eyes lingering on Sam, Dean followed Bobby up to the kitchen and immediately started rummaging around in the fridge, finding leftover meatloaf and pulling it out. "Awesome," Dean murmured. Bobby made killer meatloaf. He set it on the table as Bobby got some plates.

Watching Dean get busy in the kitchen and make himself helpful, Bobby wasn't fooled. He waited patiently, for a whole two minutes, before putting both hands on the table and leaning toward Dean. "You got something to say or should I wait until you empty the entire fridge?" he demanded. He'd known these boys for a long time, and something was definitely off. Them hanging around a Brit and not making fun, even taking him on their road trips and hunting with him? It just wasn't natural, not for a couple of loners, even if it was by necessity.

Dean paused and realized he had pulled out all sorts of things that obviously wouldn't be used to make 'lunch.' "What? Ah, no, just hungry." One look at Bobby told him the grizzled old hunter wasn't buying what he was selling. Or attempting to sell. Dean straightened and closed the refrigerator. Scratching the back of his neck, he tried to figure out what to say.

"Spike's--uh, William," he corrected himself, "he's become a permanent part of the team," Dean said checking over the stuff he had pulled out of the fridge. Slowly he began to put back some of the stuff that he knew he wouldn't be using.

Bobby squinted, staring at Dean for a few seconds before pulling his cap off and slapping Dean's head with it. "What kinda fool do you think I am? Now tell me who he is and just what the hell is going on here. Sam's on demon blood. You've picked up some hunter or, whoever he is. And what is he doing with your ring? If you owe him money..."

Crap, he should have known Bobby would notice Spike with his ring. What was he going to tell Bobby? He'd avoid it, if he could, he decided. "I took off from Sam for a while to get my shit together. Met Sp--William. We hit it off. Sam and I met back up, and it turned out the three of us, we make a good team. So we decided he stays." A dark look came into Dean's eyes. "Sam's on demon blood--demon blood gives him his mojo. That bitch, Ruby, got him addicted and he's trying to dry out." Dean put a few more things back in the fridge.

"Oh I think I have the Sam picture down, and it's crap, but it make sense. It's you I'm asking about. Taking off, bringing a new hunter in, a stranger? That's not you and you and I both know it. Now why don't you try for the truth. The whole truth," Bobby demanded, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Dean met Bobby's gaze. "You won't believe me," he said levelly. "Sam didn't in the beginning either."

"I saw you back from hell, there ain't nothing I won't believe anymore," Bobby shot back, holding the boy's gaze.

Dean blew a breath out. "Fine. I fell in love."

"In love. And?" Bobby waved his arm. "Where is she? And what does that have to do with anything? Boy if you don't stop being cryptic with me--"

"It's Spike. I'm in love with Spike," Dean interrupted, his eyes defiant. "That's why he's got my ring. I gave it to him."

There was silence. Bobby's gaze narrowed as he took Dean's measure. "Try again," he said, evenly.

Dean turned to what remained on the table and grabbed the plates Bobby had gotten out. "Told you you wouldn't believe me," he muttered as he pulled out some bread and began putting them on the plates. "Believe it or don't," Dean finally said. "I don't give a shit. Spike and I are together and Sam's cool with it."

"Now hold on a minute." Bobby walked up behind Dean, grabbed his arm and whirled him around. "Don't you go taking that attitude with me. I've known you since you weren't any taller than my knees and you've never once looked at a man that way. So how is it you think you're in love with a man?"

"I don't think I'm in love, I know I am," Dean growled. "You think I expected to fall for a guy? It just happened Bobby. He swings either way. Maybe I never have, but after forty years of being fucked or fucking whoever was on the rack, gender just doesn't mean as much to me as it used to, I guess. He understands me Bobby. He understands me in a way no one else ever could. It didn't happen overnight, but it happened."

Bobby flinched at the first information Dean gave about his time in hell, trying to wrap his brain around Dean claiming it was forty years even when he wanted to protest it had been four months. Just felt like forty years, right? Any other option was horrifying.

Letting go of Dean's arm, Bobby ran his hand over his face, too many thoughts and questions vying for priority. His voice was tense when he finally spoke. "You telling me some... some foreigner who's about as much like you as a... a... one of them new Mini-Coopers is to the Impala, understands you better than your brother, or me, people who've been in your life? So what, you're playing his bitch so he sticks around or what?"

Dean felt his anger rise. If it were Sam, he'd clock him one for saying that. It was Bobby, but he still came damned close to hitting the man. "Spike's a hunter. He and I, we're not so different. He's been through his own kind of hell." Dean clenched his teeth together, a muscle flexing in his jaw. "When I have sex with someone, I want to hurt them, Bobby, I want to carve them up and hear them scream while I'm fucking their brains out. He's helping me get through this...addiction."

There was silence, but it was clear Dean had Bobby's attention.

"Since I've been with him, I haven't needed to get drunk just to get a few hours of sleep. And he's...he's like a bridge between me and Sam. Sam and I, we're finally, I don't know, getting our shit together, working together again. Spike, he..." Dean met Bobby's gaze, his own pain-filled, "he's everything to me Bobby. He means as much to me as you or Sam. I'm happy, God dammit. For the first time since...hell, since I don't know when. I'm happy. And it's all cause of Spike."

"Alright," Bobby answered finally. "If you think you... you need the man for something, fine. I ain't faulting you on that. But I'm checking him out, just to make sure. I haven't heard of any hunter named Spike, so his real name is William? William what?"

Dean winced. Dammit, he hadn't wanted to go there yet, but he knew Bobby was just looking out for his welfare and wouldn't stop. Hell, if he and Sam came to Bobby's place and Bobby had a male vampire lover, he and Sam would keep digging until they were certain Bobby wasn't under a spell or something. "Uh, you've heard of The Slayer, right?"

"The Slayer? Yeah, never met one. I think the last one came out of California, but by now she must be dead. They don't seem to last long. Why? Are we about to have a vampire problem?" he asked, "Can't be anything we can't handle." He frowned suddenly. "Are you changing the subject on me, Boy?"

"No," Dean said. "To just about everything. Buffy Summers, she's the 'new' Slayer. The one from Cali. She's in Italy currently. Spike and she had a thing for a while. In fact, Spike kinda used to play on the other team until he fell for her. He's changed a lot from what you'll find looking in the books. He's a hunter now. Hunts demons and vamps. But," Dean looked up at the ceiling and tried to decide what to say. It wasn't going to take much digging for Bobby to find out. He should have kept his mouth shut and just kept calling Spike 'William.' He sighed, praying Bobby wasn't going to push the matter, but knowing Bobby, he would. "You're not gonna like what you find, okay? But that's not Spike anymore."

"But? But what? You haven't killed me yet, but if you keep this crap up, you're going to." Bobby made a face and pulled his cap off. "Is she coming after him? Is this turning into some sort of twisted Romeo and Juliet or... Helen of Troy scenario, is that what you're telling me? Someone wake me up before I have a heart attack."

"No! Crap, Bobby, what I'm trying to say is...aw fuck. Look, Spike, he's... Shit. He's a vampire, okay? But he's like the ones in that nest Sam and I let live. Vegetarian or whatever you want to call it. He doesn't hurt people. He helps, saves 'em, just like any hunter." Dean practically held his breath, waiting for the explosion he was afraid was coming.

"Just like any hunter," Bobby mocked in a sing song voice before raising his voice and shouting. "Only he's got fangs, drinks blood and is not human. Now you're... you're some sort of fang-banger. What's next? What the hell else you hiding, Boy? Give it to me all at once and let's get this over with."

Dean stared at Bobby, his jaw setting. "Nothing," he said calmly. "I'll take Sam elsewhere to get him clean. Thanks for your hospitality," Dean said, setting the knife he'd been ready to use on the meatloaf aside. He headed for the stairs. He couldn't fault Bobby. It was a lot to take in, a lot to accept, he got that. What was one more hunter who hated him? Even if it was Bobby. Uncle Bobby. Dean felt his eyes sting, but he wasn't going to let those tears fall. He'd get Sam through this somehow. Then the three of them would take on this damned apocalypse and beat it, and live happily ever after or some shit.

"Dean! Goddammit, Dean," Bobby repeated in a lower voice, his gaze drilling holes into the back of Dean's jacket. He waited until the boy turned to him. "Go downstairs and take care of that brother of yours. I'll bring the food and coffee down. Go on, there's no call to look at me like I grew horns, idgit."

Dean raised an eyebrow at his old friend. He was...accepting it? Then maybe Spike would have a chance to win over Bobby just like he'd won Sam over. Dean gave a sharp nod, but didn't trust himself to speak. He headed down the stairs and into the panic room where Spike had put his brother into the restraints and Sam was thrashing like he was on the rack in Hell.

A flashback of a young man who looked a lot like Sam screaming as Dean tortured him with absolute delight slammed into him. Dean stagger-stepped, staring at his brother's writhing form, listening to his panted breaths and soft cries, and savoring the sounds. All he could smell was sulfur, all he could hear was the screams of the tortured, all he could feel was the blood coating his hands and the desire to find a weapon and bring fresh screams from the man who looked too much like his brother.

"Dean." Spike walked to him and closed his arms around Dean's tense body, holding him tight. "You're not in hell now, yeah? You're here, with me, with your Uncle Bobby. And Sam. Your brother needs you, he needs you to comfort him. He's in pain, hurting. What do you do when your brother's hurting?" he asked softly. "What do you do when Sammy needs you?"

Dean felt Alistair's arms encircle him, heard the crooning voice instructing him on what to do, how to hurt the soul in the most artistic of ways. His brow creased as the familiar British accent wormed its way into his brain, as he heard Spike tell him Sammy needed him.

"I-I tell him it'll be okay. That I'll take care of him," Dean whispered. "Spike?"

"Yes. Spike, Sam, you, and Bobby. It's just us here in Bobby's house," Spike said wanting to be sure Dean was still with them. "It doesn't matter how many times I tell Sam you don't think he's a monster, he... I think he's seeing things, seeing visions of you calling him a monster. Help him, help your brother, Dean." He stroked Dean's cheek and gave him a nod.

"He's not a monster," Dean said. "He's my brother."


	16. Chapter 16

Feeling Spike let him go, Dean pulled his knife off his belt and let it clatter to the concrete floor. He approached Sam and knelt by his tortured brother. 

"Sammy? It's Dean. You hear me? It's your brother. I'm right here with you. I got you, little brother. I got you. You're gonna be fine. You're not a monster, not a freak, you're my brother and I love you. You hear me? Making me be all chick-flicky. You're _not_ a monster. Ruby tricked you, she's been lying to you. We'll get you all cleaned up little brother. I got you. I'm right here, Sammy." 

Sam's head whipped from side to side. "No. Dean. You're messing me up. Dean. Dean?" He tried to pull his hands free, tried to lift off the bed. "Let me go, please. I need..." If he had blood, he could free himself. He could be on top of the world. He could punch Dean and make him stop. "I need it. I _am_ a monster, is that what you want to hear? You're right, I am."

Keeping an eye on Dean, Spike moved to the door to take the large tray out of Bobby's hands. He didn't flinch from the hunter's hostile look and didn't return it. The argument between the hunter Dean called uncle hadn’t escaped his vampiric hearing, so he knew the reasons for it. "Coffee smells good," was all he said, finding a place to set it and pouring a few cups. 

"You're not a monster," Dean insisted gripping his brother's shoulders. "You don't need the blood. We're gonna get you through this. Me and Spike and Bobby. We're here with you. We'll always be with you. Not gonna let you go. Not gonna let you fall. You're my brother and not a monster. Listen to me, Sammy. Please. Right here. I'm right here."

"You're trying to kill me. You're dead, you're fucking dead and now you want to take me too. Bastard...” Sam opened his eyes wide, then squinted. “Dean. Dean?" He panted out his breaths, "I... it's you?" 

"It's me. It's really me. I'm right here, Sammy. I don't think you're a monster, you hear me? You're my brother. I'm gonna get you through this. Just hang with me, Sammy. Hang in there."

Words spilled from Sam's mouth, some indecipherable, some just plain crazy. He turned his head and Spike came into view. "Dean," he whispered, waiting for his brother to lean closer. "You have to kill Spike. Need his... you have to, Dean. You gotta do it, to save me. Please... Dean! I'm your brother, Dean!"

Spike's fingers tightened around the mug and he glanced at Bobby. The hunter was definitely giving him a suspicious look. "Dean," Spike offered the mug to his lover. He'd have left if they hadn't needed him. But they needed him more than Bobby could know at the moment.

Bobby moved a little closer to the brothers as Dean asked Sam what was on his mind, too.

"Why do I have to kill Spike, Sam? He wouldn't hurt you. You know that."

"Kill him." Sam's head moved from side to side. He started to shake. "Choose me. I want it," he suddenly jerked violently like he was trying to get up. "I need it, Dean. Dammit, when did you get so weak? Kill the demon. Kill him."

Though Spike appeared calm, he was wary of Bobby and prepared. His gaze shifted between the older hunter and Dean. It was obvious to him what Sam wanted. Why wasn't it obvious to them?

"Spike's our friend, Sam," Dean told him, a little stung at being accused of being weak. He furrowed his brow as he tried to sort out what Sam wanted. He glanced at Spike and saw the offered mug of coffee, then his eyes met the blue sapphire of Spike's. He accepted the mug of coffee and took a sip, his eyes going to Bobby then back to Spike. "It's your blood he wants, isn't it? That's why he wants me to kill you. When...Spike help me out here. Do we give him blood or just try to get him through this. You said he could die if he went cold turkey. I'm not letting him die. I'm also not forfeiting you to feed his addiction. I'll go find a fucking demon if it's a risk to you."

Spike didn't know it all when it came to an addiction like this, a human craving the blood of a demon. "Shouldn't give him much, just enough to keep his heart from giving out. No risk to me. Risk is that there isn't enough demon content, then we'll have to go find one."

"Hold on," Bobby put his arm out blocking anyone from moving closer to Sam even though no one had made a move to give Sam blood. Yet. "Are you idjits trying to turn him into a vampire?" he demanded. "You know one drop is enough and there ain't nothing that will bring him back from it, nothing."

Turning to Bobby Dean shook his head. "Spike was a...Dracula type...vampire. Hellmouth is it?" he asked Spike who gave a nod. "The vampire nest turned him, and he's some sort of hybrid now. We know that at least small quantities of his blood won't turn someone."

Seeing Bobby's hard look Dean gave it right back. "I know what I'm talking about. Besides, Sam's immune to the Croatoan virus. Odds are good he's probably immune to the vampire virus, too.

"And just how do you know this vampire's blood won't turn someone?" Bobby demanded, not willing to let it go and giving Spike a challenging glare.

"Because I had some of Spike's blood when he was helping me with my addiction to hurting people!" Dean snapped back at him. Dean’s nostrils flared and he tried to keep his emotions under control. Keeping his gaze locked with Bobby's he said, "Spike use your best judgment. Give Sam only as much as you think he needs."

"Well that's mighty big of him, why'd he let you have it in the first place?"

Spike could see that Bobby was trying to understand. He was asking the questions any close friend or family would. "It wasn't like that," he said, trying to cut-off a hostile answer from Dean. Since Bobby now knew about Dean's addiction, Spike didn't feel he was breaking Dean's trust by giving the man more about the circumstances, though he gave it his own spin. 

"Dean sleep walks sometimes and thinks he's back there, in hell." He glanced at the dagger that was on the floor, then back at Bobby. "My blood was on a knife. You know what they say about old habits? He licked it, but he's fine. Sam will be fine," he said, picking up the dagger and approaching the men.

He handed the dagger to Dean, his gaze locking with his lover's, challenging him to do exactly as he said. "Just a _small_ nick, yeah?" 

Dean looked at the knife, almost as if would it bite him. He swallowed and accepted the blade after setting his coffee aside. With one glance at Sam, his knuckles whitened from the death grip he had on the hilt. 

Taking hold of Spike's wrist, he moved the knife to slice down the length Spike's forearm and stopped himself. _Small nick. Just a small one._ he told himself firmly and finally drew the across Spike's wrist near the base of his thumb, the cut not even a half inch. He looked up at Spike, praying he didn't have to cut it any bigger than that. "Good?" he asked, his voice rough. 

"Very good," Spike nodded, wanting to pull the hunter into his arms. "Leave the dagger out, somewhere in view," he said, stepping closer to Sam and bringing his hand to Sam's mouth.

Why? Dean wanted to protest. He wanted the damned dagger out of sight, but he knew what Spike's game plan was. After a moment he set the blade on a nearby shelf, keeping it low enough that Spike could see it, just as he could. 

Sam’s mouth immediately latched onto Spike’s open wound and he started to suck on it. He was oblivious to everything else around him.

"You don't have to watch this," Spike told both men, biting his lower lip as he felt Sam's teeth tear into his flesh as the hunter started to get frustrated by the low flow of blood.

Dean’s eyes went back to his lover and seeing Sam drink Spike's blood sent a jolt of jealousy through him. Grabbing his coffee cup, he turned away.

Bobby had intently watched everything, scrutinizing all of them. He’d noticed how Dean very nearly drew the blade right down the vampire's forearm, saw the slight tremble in Dean's hand, saw that Dean did not want to leave the knife out. He frowned at seeing the young man he had known for so long, so torn up. Kid gloves, Bobby thought to himself, that's how that vampire was treating Dean. Making him face his issues, but ready to catch him if he wavered. He could see that plainly in the vampire's face. The look Dean gave Spike and Sam, that look he knew all too well. Sheer jealousy.

"C'mon Dean. You said you like my meatloaf so damned much, but I don't see you sitting your butt down and eating it. And you know, when you called me about that nest, you sort of left out the part that they'd gotten hold of you."

"Who says they did?"

Bobby folded his arms across his chest. "You said they turned _him._ What, did you just happen to wander by, did he just happen to get away, and you just decided to take him in knowing he'd been turned? Don't bullshit me, kid. You suck at it. You always have."

"Really?" Dean asked. He thought he'd gotten away with some pretty damned good lies through the years.

"Really," Bobby answered, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Huh," Dean huffed and then took a drink of his coffee, decidedly keeping his gaze away from Spike and Sam.

Spike leaned over Sam and started talking to him, telling him it was enough. He knew the blood lust was driving Sam and wouldn't let him hear, but he had to try before he started to pull his hand away. "Bloody..." the curse slipped from his lips as Sam bit down and tore his flesh with his bare teeth as Spike pulled his wrist free. 

"S'alright... alright, Sam," Spike said, turning away and sucking his own wound to prevent the blood from dripping, then leaning over Sam again. "You'll feel better now, yeah?"

"No. More... gimme me more," Sam demanded over and over, but his body stopped trembling. 

Once Spike's wrist healed, he ran his hand over Sam's forehead, pushing his hair back. "Think of something good. A place, a person you like. Take your mind off it." Spike had no idea whether Sam understood or could do as he suggested, but eventually he stopped thrashing and just talked to the things, to people, who were only in his mind. 

"His heart rate is down," Spike said, joining the others. The smell of the sandwich Dean was having made Spike's stomach growl. "Never had that... meatloaf … before," he said. 

Bobby's jaw almost dropped. Vampires didn't eat human food. Thinking back to the lore, he knew Hellmouth vamps did sometimes, but that was rare and they got nothing out of it. He never expected to hear a vampire's stomach _growl_ though.

"You'll never want anyone else's meatload after having Bobby's," Dean said and handed him a sandwich. He gaze flicked over to his brother and he was relieved to see that Sam had calmed down. Kind of.

Looking over at Bobby, he gave a soft chuckle. "Yeah, Spike's baffled by it, too. He's blaming me. Says my blood makes him want human food." Realizing he’d just told Bobby he let Spike drink his blood, he rolled his eyes and cursed softly under his breath.

"You let him drink..."

Dean lifted his chin defiantly. "Yeah. My blood helps him drink the cow and blood bank cocktail he usually has. He doesn't take much. Doesn't want me to end up a 'blood doll' and I assume you know what that is and it can be addictive. Usually we put it in a bottle for him to add a little to his drink."

"Does he bite you?" Bobby asked, not looking at Spike.

"Sometimes. When I ask him to. Or if he asks me if he can." Dean took a bite of the sandwich, giving a small sound of pleasure. Damn was it good. "Look, we're careful, okay? And stop acting like he's not right here with us." Dean reached out and covered Spike's hand with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Dean bites. He's not as careful," Spike said, giving Dean's hand a return squeeze, then letting go and reaching for a sandwich. "Joke," he added for Bobby who was giving him a hard look. 

"When all this is over, you and I can go out for a drink. I'll listen to whatever you have to say, yeah?" He felt Dean bristle, and nudged him with his body. "I might have a thing or two to say myself." Taking a bite of just the meat between the slices of bread, he gave a satisfied sound. "And I'll be asking for your recipe."

Bobby looked between the two and finally just shook his head. "Used to be nice and black and white. Demon. You exorcise it. Vampire, you behead it. Course you didn't have angels showing up neither, or the Apocalypse on your doorstep." Looking at Spike, he finally gave a nod. "Alright Spike, we'll talk but I'm gonna give you an earful. I don't like and don't wanna believe this," he motioned at the hand-holding, "whatever it is." He snorted at Spike's request for his recipe. "Vampires cook now, too?"

Spike shrugged, "Took care of the Slayer's little sister when the Slayer... died, until she came back," his gaze shifted to Dean for a moment, then back to Bobby. "The second time," he clarified. He didn't volunteer that he might have had some responsibility for her first death, not directly but by association with the Master who'd killed her. "I'm good at listening to lectures." This time, he did _not_ look at Dean, knowing he'd see disbelief in those green eyes. "I've had lots of practice with a broody grandsire and a librarian watcher who went on, and on." 

***

It had been hours. Dean had wanted to switch from coffee to something stronger but Spike wouldn't let him because he said Sam needed his brother sober. Sam's shouts, his mad ramblings, his cries for Dean to help him, were killing Dean. All Dean could do was sit by him and try to give him comforting words and tell him he was there. 

Spike had given Sam blood twice more now. It had been a day, more or less, Dean thought, though he didn't really check the time. Spike had managed to convince Dean to eat once after those meatloaf sandwiches, teasing and cajoling, and Bobby reluctantly admitted Spike was managing to get Dean to do things even Sam would have had trouble with.

Bobby and been in and out multiple times and more than a few of those times, he'd found the two men sitting beside each other holding hands, or with an arm around the other's shoulder or waist. Once he’d even caught them kissing. He’d also heard Dean snap at Spike a couple times and Spike seemed to take it all in stride, usually making a joke which only pissed Dean off, but then soon after a few more words were passed, Dean would calm down. Spike had a way with Dean he'd never seen Dean take to, and it sure as hell didn't look to Bobby like Dean was under any sort of spell.

He'd seen Spike sleep for about four hours, wincing when he dropped something that clattered loudly on the floor. Dean gave Bobby a half smile and told him not to worry, when Spike slept it was just like the Drac vamps. Damned near nothing woke him, however Spike had told him if he was alone his sleep tended not to be as deep and strange sounds or voices talking would rouse him due to self-preservation.

It was night time again and Dean watched his brother getting worse. He felt so damned helpless and his lack of sleep was making him even more short tempered, and he knew it.

"How much longer is this fucking going to last?" Dean demanded, venting his frustration as he lobbed the cup of coffee at the wall and began to pace, his gaze constantly going to his brother who had slept briefly but was back to shouting and crying and screaming at things that weren't even there.

Spike didn't answer the rhetorical question they'd both asked over and over. They'd taken breaks and left Sam alone for hours at a time, but they'd been in the room or right outside sitting or standing around the stairs, more often than not. It was an unspoken agreement that Dean was never in the room alone with Sam for longer than a few minutes. Either Spike or Bobby would be with him. Spike didn't think Dean would do anything, especially when he was awake, but the consequences if something went wrong, they were just too big to risk.

Walking over to Dean, Spike put his arms around the hunter's stiff body, waiting until he felt the tension slowly ease. "Let's go out, sit on the stairs. Have a beer," he offered. "Talk, hmm?"

Dean looked at his brother again. Sam was drenched in sweat but was quiet except for the occasional soft moans and tugs at his restraints. Hopefully, he’d fallen asleep and he’d sleep for a good few hours.

"Yeah," Dean said softly. "I could definitely use a beer, though I think I could down about half a bottle of whiskey right now. Maybe even...maybe even grab a slice of pizza or something. Didn't Bobby say he'd ordered pizza?" he asked as he let Spike guide his tired body out to the stairs. He needed sleep, he knew he did, but he was wound so tight, so worried about his brother, he just couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.

"Funny you should mention it, I heard the door," Spike smiled, and watched as Dean sat heavily down on one of the bottom stairs. Before going up the stairs, he stroked Dean's face. "Back in a vampire minute," he smirked. 

True to his word, Spike was back with a few slices of pizza for Dean and two beers. He sat next to Dean and took a swig of the beer then resting his elbow on his knee, he held the bottle by the neck and let it swing back and forth as he watched Dean take a bite of his pizza. "The things he's saying," Spike nodded toward the door to the safe room. "You're going to have to let them go. He's not in his right mind, and he’s pushing every button... saying things just because he knows they’ll hurt. He doesn't have to think any of it is true. Twisting reality is the best way to get to someone."

"Just one problem with that theory. A lot of what he's saying _is_ true. I am arrogant. I thought maybe I could find a way out of the deal that wouldn't get Sam killed. I brought him back when he was probably in heaven, because I was selfish, 'cause I'm not sure I believed in heaven. My job is to take care of him. Always was ever since Dad put him in my arms when I was four. And I didn't want to be without him. I didn't want to try to go on without him. I didn't have anything left. We got another guy out of a deal with the crossroad's demon. Why couldn't we get me out and save Sam too? I'm a selfish, arrogant bastard who failed him. I left him alone with Ruby, left him carrying all that guilt about not being able to save me from the deal, and of not being able to get me out of Hell." Dean shook his head and forced himself to take another bite of pizza that he washed down with a hefty pull on the beer. "Honestly Spike, if you weren't here to help keep me something close to sane...I don't know where I'd be, what I'd be doing. Thanks seems pretty fucking inadequate."

"I'll be collecting a lot more than 'thanks' when this is all over," Spike promised, "at least twenty four hours in bed uninterrupted, yeah?" He nudged his too serious lover, coaxing a semi-smile from him. "There's two sides to everything you did. Some would say those were all completely unselfish acts. Plans don't always work out, I should know," he said rolling his eyes at all of the schemes that had come crashing over his own head in the past. "Your heart's in the right place, and if I had to pick someone to be my brother... I'd want you, but then we'd both go to hell for incest," he added, smirking a little. "And how many people do you know that have been snatched out of hell by a bleedin' angel?" He raised his brow. "And don't you dare go on about them not having a choice and you being the only one who can stop the apocalypse. The prophet called you a 'righteous man' and that's after you made your deal. ‘Righteous Dean’... ‘bloody do-gooder Dean?’" he started to make fun and pulled away in case Dean got physical.

"I'm not a do-gooder. I just do my job," Dean said then gave a soft snort. "No matter where I'm at, I'm really good at my job. Except when it comes to Sam apparently." He put his arm around Spike's shoulder and just sat there for a time, letting the pizza get cold as he slowly sipped his beer. He finally kissed Spike's temple. "I think twenty-four hours won't be enough. Two, maybe three days. Sleeping. Eating. And having wild sex that'll shake the fucking pillars of Heaven."

The door at the top of the stairs slammed shut.

Spike looked at Dean, then started to laugh. "Right, I think you just added to the list of things I'm going to get an 'earful about.'" Lifting his beer to his mouth, he took a sip, then leaned in and stole a quick kiss on the lips. "Figure you owe me that as an advance." They sat in silence for a while with Spike nudging Dean to eat. 

With Spike's incessant nagging, Dean finally finished off the two pieces of pizza though Spike stole a good portion of the pepperoni and sausage from the second piece.

"You're tired. You should sleep," Spike said. "We should set up a cot in there for you, if you can sleep in spite of Sam's racket. He seems to have quieted down for now." He saw the fear in Dean's eyes and shook his head. "I'll be there. If you sleep walk and there's any danger, I'll stop you. Want you to think about a trigger, something that can wake you. A song, a word, something that means something to you, something you won't forget. And if you sleep walk, you can say the word, hum the song, wake yourself. It's worth a try."

"Dude, I don't know when I'm sleepwalking. As far as I'm concerned I'm back in Hell and all of this was just a delusion. A trigger word...I don't know. I, uh, hum Metallica sometimes when I don't like where I'm at." Dean thought a minute longer and shrugged helplessly. "You, my brother, my car, Bobby, that's about all that's important to me. I'm not complicated." He gave a bitter laugh. "About the only thing that has special meaning to me is 'funnel cake.' I guess I'll try that. It's supposed to be our safe word. Maybe it'll keep everyone around me safe. But I don't think it's a good idea for me to sleep in there. Just get me some more coffee. I'm good. Really."

"I don't expect you'll be able to sleep or sleep walk on command, but when you do sleep, it should be in there. Your brother's dealing with one sort of bloodlust. What better time for you to deal with yours?" He grasped the front of Dean's shirt. "I won't let you hurt him," he promised, drawing him close and slanting his mouth over Dean's. "'Funnel cake'... when you want to breathe," he warned, right before he took Dean's mouth in a searing kiss, trying to wipe his mind free of his fears and worries, trying to show him how much he loved him and had confidence in him, and maybe telling him which of the two of them was correct. Right, there was a bit of that.

Dean was about to protest that they should deal with one bloodlust at a time, but Spike's passionate kiss cleared just about every thought out of his head. Fuck, he never thought he melted easily, but with Spike, especially when Spike wanted to be in control, he didn't have a chance. He just couldn't deny Spike anything. He'd try, but Spike would wheedle and joke and pretty soon Dean was agreeing to whatever it was Spike wanted him to do.

His lungs were burning and he was seeing spots before his eyes. "unnel-ake" was as close as he could get to saying the 'safe word' and after another long second, Spike broke the kiss and Dean drew in a deep breath. 

"Damn, you're evil," Dean gasped, his cock twitching with need. With a kiss like that they should be spiraling into some damned hot sex, but that couldn't happen right now. "Don't be looking so fucking smug," Dean glared at him, but the glare had no effect what-so-ever on the vampire and he knew it. "...All right. I'll sleep...in there. But you don't leave. For any reason. And...and maybe you better cuff me to the bed, just in case."

"You can call me 'the big bad' if you like," Spike said, not losing his smirk. "And we're not cuffing you. You're going to control yourself and wake yourself up. I know you will. It'll be good practice, and I'll be right here with you. If we cuff you and Bobby walks in, we'll be hearing a lot more than a door slamming. You know there are some things I can't resist," his gaze was focused on Dean's mouth, but he dragged it away. 

"I'm not calling you 'the big bad.' Unless we're talking about your ego and your humor," Dean smirked back. "You can't resist anything when it comes to me, but who can blame you for that?"

Dean's smirk faltered. "Promise me. Promise me you won't leave. And that knife goes outside the room."

"Trust me." Spike didn't make the promise. There would be no point if there were no knife in the room, but he wasn't beyond humoring Dean and putting it out temporarily if Dean insisted. "And since you seem to need a reminder, I'll be showing you what else is big and bad about me," he got up. "I'll the get the bed set up. You go upstairs and... talk to Bobby, yeah?" He gave Dean a look. "Good luck."

"Bobby's just gonna have to learn to deal with the fact you and I are together," Dean said but pushed himself wearily to his feet. "I'll let him know I'm sleeping down here," he said making a face. Still he didn't want to leave Sam alone and he didn't really trust himself upstairs if Bobby was there. What if he had one of his waking nightmares and tried to hurt his friend?

* * *

Hours later, Spike sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and itching for a smoke. He couldn't go for one though, not with Dean finally having fallen asleep an hour and a half ago. He seemed to be peaceful, laying on his stomach and hardly moving. 

Spike's gaze shifted to Sam who was less than peaceful. His mumbled pleas were getting louder and his tugs on the restraints more violent. Spike's blood seemed to calm him quite quickly but they were only giving him a little, and then only when his heart was beating dangerously fast. 

Spike knew first-hand it had to be torture seeing illusions which tormented and taunted you and being unable to separate fact from fiction. He'd told Dean a bit about the time he'd been under Caleb's control like that, being restrained and seeing realistic visions of the Slayer. The vision would insult him, push his buttons, his insecurities. Then she’d pretend to free him, but he’d find that he was still there, all chained up. It had all been games, and the Slayer had never been there at all. 

He was sure that every insecurity Sam had was growing in stature and biting him in the arse. He hoped when this was over, Sam would see that Ruby did not do him any favors getting him hooked on demon blood like that. He didn’t know how Sam had been fed. Maybe she gave him a bit of her blood, that was possible. Or maybe they’d killed to get it, which had to weigh on the hunter’s soul when he knew that demons, at least the sort the Winchesters dealt with on a regular basis, could be exorcised and the possessed human did not have to die.

He stretched to pick up his mug of coffee when he heard Dean's cot creak, and turned towards him, watching him.

_The cries echoed in his skull. They gave you breaks in Hell, breaks from the torture. It gave you a chance to hear the other cries of agony that weren't your own screams of pain. It gave you a chance to watch what the demons did to the other souls, what new and creative methods of torture they came up with and which you knew you would get to experience first-hand._

_Dean seemed to be one of the 'chosen,' getting special attention from the master torturer Alistair. Lilith visited often as well. Other souls, other demons, they got their turn at him too of course._

_"You can get off the rack if you put other souls on, Dean," Alistair told him every day. When he finally caved, when the thought of another day of agony was more than he could bear, he did just that. Alistair told him if he didn't have a talent for it, he would end up back on the rack. "Show me you're worthy, dear boy."_

_Dean zeroed in on the soft whimpering nearby. That wouldn't do. Screams. That's what he needed to hear. Screams that weren't his, screams that would never again be his own, screams that would satisfy the master torturer. He needed a weapon._

_Searching for one, he saw the glint of steel in the red shadows. He wanted to smell the blood, taste it, and taste the fear he’d endured for so damned long._

_Vengeance. He could get vengeance. Maybe not on the ones who had tortured him, but on the others who screamed, the others who helped break him down. Alistair had told others that if they could convince Dean to get off the rack, they would be spared for a time. Their cries and begging had all contributed to his final failure._

_He walked across to the blade that called to him and picked it up. He tested its sharpness by slitting his own thumb, then sucking the blood, his blood, that he’d tasted in his mouth every day, along with too many other things._

_He turned to sounds coming from a bound and tortured soul. No, the cries just weren't loud enough. Alistair would want more and he was not gonna be put back on that rack because he failed to give it to him._

Tensing, Spike stood up, his eyes on the blade that was in Dean's hand. The low light glinted off it. He raised his gaze to Dean's face and saw how hard his expression was... no, not hard, but empty and cold. Those eyes that usually held a wealth of emotions were blank slates. 

Without drawing attention to himself, Spike slowly inched closer to Sam, but still stood at least five feet away. He concentrated on Dean, not on Sam who was still fighting to free himself.

"You're not making enough noise," Dean crooned to the soul that was damned to hell. "But I can help with that," he assured and walked forward, knife in hand. "Don't worry, I'm good at my job. It'll be elegant, the way I'm gonna carve you up. Masterful. You'll feel every slow draw of my blade through your flesh. Can't have it over too fast, you know."

Dean ran his hand along the man's leg, across his groin, and up his sweating chest. The man thrashed and muttered things as Dean continued to move his hand up to his face. "It's no fun if I can't see your face," Dean told him and gripped the man's chin firmly, turning the brunet's face toward him. He held the knife ready, but frowned. 

The man was dressed. That wasn't typical. And the man's face. His brow creased even more as he searched his memories. "Sammy?" he whispered.

_Sam was nine and begged Dean to let him go on the twirling ride. Dean bought the tickets and they stood in line and soon they were on it. His brother's grin practically split his face as the ride started and they began pressing their feet against the floor, each trying to overtake the other one to get the compartment to spin. They laughed as they slid into each other, though Dean had put on enough height and muscle that he had to be careful not to smash too hard into his little brother. The ride ended and both of them booed. It had been far too short as far as both of them were concerned. "Look Dean! Cotton candy! Can we get some?"_

_Dean gave him the money and the young boy raced over and picked out some purple fluff. Smelling a cinnamon sweetness in the air, Dean looked around. "Hey Sammy, let's try that stuff, it smells awesome."_

_They headed over to the stall. "Yeah, gimme one of those things," he told the guy behind the counter. "What's it called?" Dean asked, pointing at the pastry that looked like fried worms or something._

_"Funnel Cake," the man said in an English accent._

Dean was suddenly awake. Immediately awake. He stood over his brother, his grip bruising on Sam's chin, a knife in his other hand. He released his brother and backed away, the knife falling from numb fingers. His eyes quickly scanned over his brother's body, searching for wounds but finding none. Sinking to his knees, he began to sob.

In a few strides, Spike was in front of Dean, dropping down to his knees and drawing him into his arms. "Shshsh, Sam's fine. You didn't hurt him. You woke yourself up, Dean," he stroked Dean's back with one hand and cradled his head with the other. "You did good. You haven't had one of these in a while, and it’s the first time you woke yourself. It's good, s'all good, you're alright," he crooned, "alright..."

Dean clutched at the vampire, holding him so tightly that if Spike were human it would probably approach crushing him. "We were at the carnival. He was just a little kid," Dean whispered. "Rode that octopus ride like you and me. Got cotton candy, then...then...funnel cake. I asked the guy what it was. It was your voice I heard. Did you say it? Did you pull me out?" Dean couldn't believe he had woken himself up. It had to have been Spike. Spike must have said it and snapped him out of his nightmare. 

"No, wasn't me, Dean. It was you, all you." Spike pulled back slightly so he could look into his lover's face. " _You_ stopped it all on your own, mate. All on your own." The disbelief in Dean's eyes was hard to bear, but Spike stared right back at him, willing his words to sink in. "This is a good thing. Just like when I first kept a bag of hospital blood down without being in pain. Just like seeing Sam waiting a longer before needing my blood will be. It's the same thing, steps toward beating it... this thing."

Dean stared back into Spike's eyes. He saw no lies, no deception in them. Only love and belief. "We're all monsters made by the supernatural," Dean said softly, "trying to beat what it's made us into. You did, all by yourself. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you. You...you're more human than either Sam or me right now. The three of us, we'll always have these monsters inside us. And you, you'll always catch me and Sam when we start to fall, won't you? And we'll catch you. We'll keep each other human."

"Keep each other human. I like the ring of that," Spike answered, giving Dean a smile as he started to get up, pulling Dean with him.


	17. Chapter 17

It took five days all said and done, but those five days of hell were finally over and Dean didn't think he'd felt any greater sense of relief than when he’d released the restraints holding his brother. They had drugged Sam a few times, to clean him up, change out his sheets, exercise his muscles some so he would be able to move without being too stiff and sore when it was all over. They had kept him hydrated and given him small quantities of food when he was lucid enough to eat.

Spike had insisted Dean sleep in the panic room with Sam. Dean hadn't wanted to but he’d reluctantly agreed. Three more times he had woken from a sleep walking event probably in part brought on by Sam's cries and the sounds of the restraints being tugged and jerked. Each time he had woken with the dagger in his hand, but each time, he had managed to wake himself up. The last time he did it just as he picked up the knife. 

Spike had been so proud of him, especially that time and it made him feel so good to hear Spike say it. How many times had anyone told him they were proud of him? 'You did good,' that he had heard but not that someone was proud of his accomplishments. Spike’s kiss had him practically turning into a messy little puddle of goo on the floor of the panic room, not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

"How you feeling, Sammy?" Dean asked as he helped Sam slowly sit up. "Easy now, not too fast."

Sam was quiet for a moment. It was weird to have his mind clear. The sounds, the taunting voices, all those people or versions of people were gone. It was just him and Dean. 

"Like I was hit by a truck," he said, rubbing his wrist and seeing how raw it was from the restraints. He hung his head. "So Bobby knows..." 

Seeing Sam’s shame, Dean tried to distract Sam from his blood-addiction issues. "That Spike's a vampire and that we're in a relationship? Yeah. That was a fun conversation. He gets all weird when Spike and I kiss or anything. He had a talk with Spike. It was just Bobby and Spike. Feel like I'm bringing a fiance home for Dad’s approval or something,” Dean grimaced. 

Meeting Sam's eyes, he gave a nod. "Knows about my...sleep-slashing...issues, too.” He gave his brother’s shoulder a light squeeze. ”Sam, I think I’ve got you beat on the 'seriously fucking with Bobby's head' on this.”

Sam gave a tired smile and nodded though he wasn’t really convinced. Still he’d put on a good effort for his brother. "Maybe he'll concentrate on that then." Letting out a sigh, Sam got off the cot and stretched, making a face as every part of him seemed sore. Running his hand over his face, he asked, "Is it morning?" But when he tipped his head back, he noticed how pale and drawn Dean looked. "Dude, you look terrible. I thought I was the one who was messed up."

"I haven't had sex in six days. What do you expect?" Dean said with a tired smirk. "It's morning and Spike is making his 'famous' pancakes. Let's get the hell out of this place."

He stood close to Sam as they climbed the stairs, making sure his brother kept his balance. When they stepped out into the house proper, the smells of bacon and sausage and pancakes had Dean's stomach growling loudly. 

Sam stopped in the middle of the room, his mouth dropping open slightly as he watched Spike working around Bobby in the kitchen, with the hunter loaded up with plates and cursing when he almost bumped into the vampire, then shutting up as the vampire shoved a slice of bacon in his mouth. 

"I think I'm still hallucinating," he said, almost sheepishly when Bobby looked in his direction. 

"Don't think Dean will like that, but feel free to hallucinate about Bobby instead, yeah?" Spike grinned at the face both Sam and Bobby made. "Morning luv, get your brother a cup of coffee."

Seeing how Spike's gaze slid to Bobby, Sam shook his head. Bobby had two Deans to deal with now, though he didn't appear to be put out.

Dean got Sam a cup of coffee and made him sit down at the table. "You're already looking a little shaky there, Sam. Spike made the coffee, not Bobby, so it won't burn a hole in your stomach," Dean said moving the sugar and milk close to Sam and giving Bobby a grin.

"You don't like my coffee, Boy, you ain't gotta drink it," Bobby grumbled.

"I always like strong coffee. It's just better on a full stomach." Dean walked up behind Spike and wrapped his arms around him. "Mmm, food is definitely one way to my heart," Dean murmured, basking in the warmth he felt coming off his lover. The stove must have heated Spike's temperature up. He nuzzled Spike's neck, then suddenly froze. 

"Heart..." he whispered. "Heart. Spike--"

"I thought Sam was the one with the Internet-speak," Spike answered, moving the frying pan over to slide the pancakes onto a waiting plate. When Dean didn't let him go, he smirked and whispered, "Soon."

Dean grabbed the spatula and moved the pancakes onto the plate then made Spike set down the frying pan. Turning Spike to face him, he took Spike's hand and placed it on Spike's chest, over his heart. He stared into Spike's eyes, willing him to realize what he was feeling.

Ignoring the loud groan from Bobby, who went to sit down next to Sam, Spike gave Dean a questioning look, then looked down at his own hand over his chest. His brow furrowed as he felt an unfamiliar thudding under his palm and jerked his hand away. 

"What... it's impossible." Licking his lips, Spike put his hand back, this time next to Dean's, which was still over his heart. "I'm... changing again?" There was touch of panic in his voice even as an unrealistic hope swamped him. "Your sort of vamp...?" But no, they hadn't had heart beats, he knew that.

Dean shook his head. "I dunno what's happening, Spike, but you have a heartbeat. Do you...feel any different? Still have fangs?" 

Spike bared his teeth and his fangs elongated. He ran his tongue over them, nodding slowly. "I didn't even hear it, my heart. I don't feel different, except," he gave a choked laugh and shook his head. "I’m probably asleep. Haven't dreamt of being human in a long while," he said, trying to be flip. 

"Vampire with a heart beat, there has got to be something on that," Sam offered, tasting the pancakes, his expression one of approval as he took a second bite. 

"Guess that makes you truly perfect now," Dean said with a knowing smile, but he couldn't bring himself to take his hand off Spike's chest. He was too amazed at feeling the beating heart. "You're warm too. Maybe not quite as warm as a human, but you're definitely a lot warmer than when we first met. Actually, you have been getting a little warmer as the days have passed," Dean said thoughtfully. "I just really didn't think anything of it. I wonder when your heart started beating again." Looking at Spike, he noticed the vampire wasn't nearly as pale either. 

"Don't know." Spike was trying to get used to the idea but it was as difficult and foreign to him as the thought of walking in sunlight had been. "Let's eat," he said finally, taking the last stack of pancakes, putting his hand on Dean's back and walking him to the table. "It’s probably your magical healing--"

"Ah--" Sam put a hand out to stop Spike from his graphic cock-talk.

Raising a brow, the vampire finished, "--blood. First it has me craving food, and now this." Spike had no other explanations.

"Speaking of blood, you don't know anything about a serial blood bank thief, do ya? I'd been following up on stories of open blood bags at hospitals and red cross blood banks," Bobby said, giving both Spike and Dean a look.

Spike had the grace to look sheepish, avoiding Bobby's gaze as he got a cup of coffee. "I was looking for the 'right sort,'" he admitted. "It was when... we were apart a while."

"The right sort?" Dean asked as he sat down and started filling his plate with all the food laid out on the table. "What? My blood type? That had to baffle the authorities. A picky blood thief." Dean laughed when he thought of the head-scratching that had to have given the cops.

"Not type. Smell... feel, it's hard to explain," Spike muttered. "Probably should change the subject, haven't had any for a while." Almost pointedly, he looked at Dean's jugular, before drawing his gaze away.

"We'll fix that tonight," Dean promised Spike and chuckled at the noises Bobby made, but wondered at Spike's description. What made his blood different in taste from others? Must be the cheeseburgers he decided. "Damn, you do make good pancakes," he said around a mouthful.

"Right, told you I did. Vampires never lie." He didn't feel much like a vampire even as the words fell from his lips. No one noticed though, and very quickly they all started trading stories and barbs. 

Spike felt at home now, with these people who'd become so important to him, his new family. Even Bobby, who had shared a beer with him and had given him the earful he'd promised. It had turned out the hunter's bark was worse than his bite when it came to the Winchesters and anything that the boys wanted or needed. The man made it clear that if he hadn't seen how Dean seemed to need Spike, Bobby would not have given him time for any explanations and would have decapitated him. Before Spike could brag about that being a difficult task seeing as he'd killed two slayers in his evil days, Bobby had cut him off noting he wasn't some slip of a girl who'd go 'goo goo eyed' at some bleach blond bad boy of doom. Now he regretted having given Dean the blow by blows of that conversation as Dean had already called him the ‘bad boy of doom’ several times.

After they’d eaten and talked for a while, right as some of them started to get up from the breakfast table, Sam cleared his throat. "Guys, just..." He took a deep breath. "I have something to say. I'm sorry. For... everything I put you through." His gaze shifted to Dean. "For disappointing you, and hurting you. I... I have a lot to make up for, I know that."

Dean looked down at his long empty plate then back up to meet those hazel eyes that were so filled with regret and guilt. "Just no more lies, okay? No hiding shit. Fight with me, argue with me, tell me I'm being an ass. If Ruby shows up, calls, whatever, you tell me. We'll figure some way to take out Lilith and beat the Apocalypse, but demon blood and demon powers, that's not the way to go. We gotta start being straight with each other. We gotta start trusting each other and believing in each other again. We're getting better," he glanced at Spike, knowing Spike was the reason for that, "but we both know we've got a long way to go." 

After a longer pause, Dean added, "I'm proud of you for telling us and getting through this. Let's start with a clean slate, huh? I've fucked up plenty since I've been back. So have you. And we'll probably both fuck up again. Let's just...take it as it comes."

"Thanks... Dean," Sam said in a low voice, though his lips curved into a smile and he was nodding. His gaze met Spike's and Bobby's and he felt no censure there, which was a relief, and also unexpected. Especially from Bobby. "Start over, I like that. I think we can do that," he said, feeling just a little of the weight lifting from his shoulders. He looked over at Spike. "About asking Dean to kill you, I..."

Spike waved his arm. "I know, my blood's as delicious as your brother's." He chuckled at the flashes of jealousy he'd felt from Dean when he gave Sam blood, but was too smart to bring it up. At least right now. He would later, much much later. 

* * *

"Can you believe it?" Dean complained good-naturedly as he walked toward their hotel room. They'd gone for a double so they could basically make a mess in one bed and sleep in the other. That was the theory anyhow. They'd also told management it might be wise if they could get a room away from other guests so as not to disturb them. "Sam and Bobby are such prudes. We were only kissing," he explained. 

There were two buildings to the complex, separated by grass and trees. Spike's gaze flicked to the far side of the back building, then to the mouth he'd been kissing when they'd been caught at it. His lips burned, aching for another taste. 

Without warning, he spun in front of Dean, grabbing the front of his jacket as he walked him determinedly backwards until Dean's back pressed against a tree and Spike was kicking his legs apart and stepping closer. "Bloody daft prudes," he agreed. "Let's pick it up where we broke off kissing," he said, biting his lip as he yanked Dean close and cupped his cock right over his jeans. 

The moment their mouths collided, Spike pushed his tongue inside, moaning when Dean's tongue instantly curled around his and deepened the kiss. God he needed this, needed Dean so bleedin' much. Too many days had gone by and now a simple kiss, a thought, that was all it took to get him so hard it hurt. 

Dean chuckled at Spike's enthusiasm, he was all for it, but then Spike had him trapped against a tree, groping him like he had been at Bobby's, and his tongue was so far inside his mouth he was sure Spike could tickle his damned tonsils. He wanted to complain that they were only a short distance from the room, but Spike's searing kiss burned away any thoughts of trying to get Spike to wait. His hands slid down to Spike's ass and pulled him closer. Although he had gone days and even weeks without sex (before he went to Hell), now, with Spike, even a couple days felt like an eternity. He hoped this feeling between them wasn't one of those 'honeymoon, fall in love at first sight' sort of things that faded after a few months or a year or two.

Then again, they had an apocalypse headed their way, so who the fuck cared? He had Spike right now and that was all that mattered. With that thought, he rubbed his cock against Spike's, frustrated that they still had their clothes on. At least Spike let him take a couple breaths before their tongues were back to tangling and Dean slid his right hand under Spike's shirt and stroked up and down Spike's back.

Electric heat followed the path of Dean's calloused palm moving over Spike, making Spike think of his lover's hands touching him everywhere, imagining Dean's fist closed around his cock. "Fuck," Spike cursed. "Doesn't take much for you to make me go mad." And he was, insane. Insane with need. With desire so strong he could barely think above the sound of his heart or the rush of his blood. "Want you... want you so bad, to be in you," he muttered, rubbing his mouth against Dean's throat as his hand moved up to undo the button of Dean's jeans. "You asked what I look for in blood. Your scent, your taste, it..." Instead of attempting any further explanation, he crushed his mouth over Dean's again, thrusting his tongue into velvet heat, tongue fucking him with the same desperation as he was undoing his pants with.

Dean knew he needed to stop Spike. There were windows, maybe with kids, and parents who would call the cops on the two guys fucking behind the building. He forced himself to grab Spike's wrist. If he had to use 'funnel cake' to get Spike to wait until they at least made it into their room, he would. All of these thoughts were overlain with imagining Spike turning him around and filling him, fucking him against the tree.

And then he felt it. And heard the barest of flutters, which was just shy of amazing being able to hear anything over their groans.

"Dean," Castiel said. "We need to talk."

Dean pulled away from Spike's mouth so sharply he cracked his head against the tree. "Now? You fucking want to talk now?" Dean growled. 

"Spike," Dean groaned as Spike's mouth went to his neck. "Stop, Spike. Stop." When he heard Spike tell Castiel to 'bugger off', Dean finally said it. "Spike, 'funnel cake' goddammit."

Groaning, Spike pulled away, but barely. His eyes were hot with lust, his hands still all over Dean. He struggled to get a hold of himself as he turned to the stranger standing too bloody close and looked him over. 

"We're paid up. Now bugger off," he repeated, gripping Dean's arm and starting to pull him toward the privacy of their room since he was sure Dean's use of their safe word was because Spike had gone too far in plain sight.

Dean pulled back against Spike but Spike's determination made that an effort in futility and Dean didn't have any choice but to try to keep up with him. "Spike, this is Castiel."

"Do you require assistance?" Castiel asked, tilting his head as he watched the vampire pull his charge toward the building.

"Cas, just...just meet us in room 1209," Dean called back as Spike picked up his pace, practically dragging Dean along.

"Very well," Castiel said and was gone.

"Spike, Jesus," Dean said, changing tactics and keeping up with spike instead of dragging his heels and trying to slow him down. "You're gonna burn your new heart out if you don't chill."

Dean's words finally sank in and though Spike didn't want to stop, didn't want anything but the time they'd promised they'd have to themselves, he slowed right before they reached their room. "Do all your friends have bad timing?" he demanded, trying to get his needs under control. "If Sam told him where you are, I'm going to kick his arse." He shot a resentful look toward the room, then looked at Dean, his heart falling. 

"Angel... he. You know it’s not going to like this, you and me." What Spike didn't say was that this was like the Sam thing all over again. Dean was going to have to choose.

"Sam didn't tell him. Doesn't have to. And Cas has piss poor timing all the time. Yes, he's the angel. 'Angel' and 'dick' are synonymous, just so you know. And I don't give a flying fuck whether he likes it or not. We're together and we're staying together. Period." Dean pulled out his key and slid it into the slot, then pushed the door open. 

Castiel was standing near the window, looking out at the sunny and beautiful day. Dean couldn't see his face, not that it would matter. About the only emotion Castiel ever showed was an occasional frown that creased his brow. 

Dean walked in and tossed his duffel on the floor between the bed and the wall. "Where the fuck have you been? You couldn't trouble yourself to save my ass from the vampire nest? Or help Sam get through his demon blood addiction?" He strode over to Castiel and spun the angel to face him. "Spike and I earned these couple days together so you damned well better not tell me I need to be somewhere else."

"I was ordered not to interfere," Castiel said simply. "You were in need of help. We could not help you with your mental condition. He could." Castiel glanced at Spike. "Nor was I permitted to help with Sam. William needed to gain the trust of Bobby and finalize the trust building between Sam and himself."

"Spike. His name is Spike," Dean said, glaring at the angel. "Wait...you wanted us to hook up? What the fuck, Cas? When did angels start deciding who gets together with whom?"

"Are you not familiar with cherubim? Those you call cupids?" Castiel asked, mildly surprised. "Though they did not play a part in this."

"You look more like a watcher than an angel, especially not the sort that looks good on a Valentine card," Spike said, giving Castiel a critical once over and thinking he was a lot like Giles. "Thought angels were warriors not ... bureaucrats." He frowned at the trenchcoat and tie. "And what do you mean ... you're responsible for putting me in that place? Putting Dean there?" he demanded, starting to get more than annoyed but trying to hold back. If this really was an angel, Spike wasn't sure what it was capable of. 

Castiel seemed baffled by Spike's comment about being on a Valentine card, but decided to ignore it. "We are warriors, but we are warriors for God and do His will. We...encouraged...the events that put you both in the vicinity of the vampire nest, though we did not force the choices you made. You, William--Spike," Castiel corrected himself, "needed to be able to walk in the sun, needed to be able to touch holy symbols, and create holy water if you were to aid Dean in the battles ahead. There was serious doubt that you would be able to control your bloodlust, but it is good to see that you were indeed the correct choice."

"There was doubt? I could have killed him," Spike pointed to his lover and snarled. "You did this? You played with us like we're pieces on a chessboard?" he demanded, his irritation doubled by the angel's calm facade. He realized walking in the sun was a precious gift for a vampire like himself who hadn't seen the dawn in decades, but it was one thing to have a choice in things and another to be put through the mill and risk Dean’s life. 

"But you did not," Castiel replied, unfazed by the vampire’s growing anger. "Nor should you underestimate Dean's abilities to protect himself. You could have killed many through the recent years, and you have not. You have aided in the survival of mankind. You forfeited your life as the Champion of Sunnydale to stop the invasion of the fully demonic vampires and closed that gate to that level of Hell. You have fought alongside others in Los Angeles to stop that potential apocalypse as well." He paused and with a tilt of his head asked curiously. "Did you think what you desired would be easily obtained?"

"No. I fought to get my soul," he shot back. "Nothing about it was easy, yeah? What's that got to do with anything?" He glanced at Dean, then back at the angel. "What do you want? If you think I've done my 'work' and I'm going away now, it's not how it's going to be." There was a much more stubborn tilt to his chin now. This wasn't like making Dean choose between himself and his brother. He'd fight this angel, and any others if he had to. 

"You have done what we could not. You have helped Dean find himself again and have given him a reason to fight once again."

"I was doing just fine!" Dean interrupted.

Castiel looked at Dean. "No. You were not." He turned his attention back to Spike. "You went to regain your soul to become a man again. It was only your first step. Regaining your soul has allowed you to continue to walk the path to your ultimate goal. To your destiny."

"What's this damned destiny you're talking about? Destiny is a load of crap. We make our own choices. Stop being so fucking cryptic and just tell us," Dean demanded of the angel. God could Castiel get under his skin.

"I know what I was after and I've got it now." Spike could feel the distinct beats of his heart in his chest. "As for destiny, I've already made my plans," he reached for Dean's hand and held it tight. "If you've got other plans, you can bloody well bugger off." 

"You knew nothing of the Shanshu Prophecy at the time you obtained a soul," Castiel pointed out. "But it has now come to pass and you have proven yourself to be the one to regain humanity. Although you are still part vampire, your heart beats. The price for humanity is that you will age normally and die." 

Spike's hand closed a little tighter around Dean's. "It's not a price. It's a wish," he said, glancing over at Dean. They'd grow old together, or maybe die young. One thing he knew, he didn't want to be on a 'forever' time line if his lover wasn't, and Dean would never, ever agree to be changed. "Which brings us back to, what's so important you had to interrupt a very important meeting." 

The look of confusion came back into Castiel's eyes. "Meeting? I thought your intentions were to copulate."

Dean groaned softly. "Cas, for God's sake, just tell us so you can leave and Spike and I can get back to what you interrupted."

"I do not understand your anger, but very well. Lilith will be attempting to open a seal," and glancing at Spike, Cas explained, "this is what you would call a 'Hellmouth.' It must be closed. Spike has an amulet that can aid in this." 

"Where is it?" Dean asked with a sigh. "And when is the bitch going after it?"

"Cleveland. The moon must be full for the ritual. That give you nine days," Cas answered. 

Spike was stunned. His fingers felt numb as he let go of Dean and cocked his head. "You want me to do that again?" He was mortal, it was what he'd wanted. But he hadn't meant to give up his life so soon. He had someone he wanted, needed to be with. "It's too soon," he said hoarsely. "Will it... will it stop this Apocalypse? Will it," he took a breath and nodded toward Dean. "Will they be off the hook?" 

"Every seal that is saved keeps Lilith one step further from her goal," Castiel said, but shook his head. "No, it, by itself, will not stop the Apocalypse, but it will prevent giving her more reinforcements and chaos that aid her in her goal. If you mean will Dean and Sam no longer have to battle, no, this will not save them from that fate." He straightened a little and stared at Spike, Spike’s real question dawning on him. "The holy fire will no longer burn you, you do not need to fear it. Though the demon in you may find it rather uncomfortable."

Dean took Spike's hand back in his own. "Whoa, now, wait just a minute. The last time he closed this hellgate thing, he died, right? No way, Cas. I'm not forfeiting him just to save one god-damned seal. You've taken everything from me all my life. You're not taking him."

"As I said, the holy fire will not destroy him as it did last time," Castiel said. Sometimes, he decided, Dean was a bit slow. He was unaccustomed to having to repeat himself, however, with his charge, it seemed the only way Dean would accept or understand what he said, even if he thought he had been perfectly clear about the matter. 

Ignoring the angel, Spike asked Dean. "You trust him?" He knew his lover's outlook on angels, but the nod he received melted some of his tension. "Right. Cleveland, in nine days. You go give the details to Sam and we'll go get him in twenty four... forty eight hours," Spike said. "We've got some catching up to do on... copulating," he used the angel's own word, "course if you insist on watching..." he deliberately drew Dean close. The angel wouldn’t turn him to ash, not when he needed help closing the hellmouth, would he?

"Seventy-two hours. We can make Cleveland in a day. That gives us five days to find this gateway to Hell. We've got some pillars of Heaven to shake," Dean said, looking into Spike's eyes.

"Why would I wish to watch your acts of copulation? And which pillars in Heaven do you mean?" the angel asked. Sometimes humans made no sense to him. Okay, most times humans made no sense to him. Or perhaps it was just uniquely Dean.

Dean gave an exasperated growl. "Cas, please, just go tell Sam about this Hellgate thing."

"Be careful Dean. They may well be expecting you."

"There's a surprise."

With a soft rustle of feathers, Castiel disappeared. 

Dean met Spike's gaze and ran his hands up and down Spike's sides. "Now where were we?"


	18. Chapter 18

Spike tipped his head back and watched Dean from under his lashes, enjoying the thrills running through his body each time Dean touched him. Closing his arm around Dean, he lifted him up and brought their mouths together, turning them around and taking a few steps to the bed. Climbing up onto the bed on his knees, he slowly lowered Dean, following him down, hissing softly when his weight settled over his lover. He stroked Dean's cheek as he kissed him slowly senseless, moving over him, sliding their bodies together as if discovering how Dean felt for the first time. 

Every taste, every touch was a precious gift now. There was no forever, there was here and now, and Spike would make sure Dean understood how much Spike loved him. He poured his love into his kisses, and into his caresses as he explored Dean's body under his shirt, his fingers splayed wide, squeezing and gripping, his thumb tracing the planes of his lover's muscles. When he broke the kiss and looked down at Dean's glistening lips, a flood of heat swept over him. "I think we were about to start _our_ forever," he said gravely, lifting up and using both hands to slowly push Dean's shirt up.

"You're such a girl," Dean chuckled, but liked the sound of it, liked it a lot. He was still recovering from the deeply romantic kisses Spike had given him and the way Spike touched him practically burned him. It was like Spike had never explored his flesh before, each touch new and exhilarating. 

Dean lifted a little to make it easier for Spike to push his shirt up. He really hadn't expected the leisurely way Spike was tasting him and caressing him, especially not after the tree incident, which his head still ached a little from when he banged it thanks to Cas. He ran his own hands over Spike's body but when Spike began pushing his shirt up, he slid his hands under Spike's shirt. Spike's body was so warm to the touch now. He was still amazed that Spike's heart was beating, but he remembered the price Cas had said came with it. 

"I'm sorry you're mortal now," he said quietly, looking into those gentle blue eyes. He saw such deep love in them it almost took his breath away. He surely didn't deserve such love and devotion.

"Don't be." Dropping Dean's shirt, he lifted his own arms and let Dean peel it off, before he looked down again. "Couldn't be happier about it." He wasn't going to give his reasons, they were either obvious or not. It didn't matter much. "I'm just happy you're..." He traced the outline of Dean's lips with his finger. "...still mine. After everything... I thought he might take you from me," he whispered, unsure if that fear that Dean would choose someone or something over him would ever loosen its grip.

"Sam, he's the only one that could give you any competition and only because he's my little brother. I would have told him to fuck off about you except..." Dean sighed, "you were the only leverage I had to get him to stop seeing Ruby. I'm sorry for that, too, but I'm not sorry for the outcome. I missed you so damned much, they were just about the longest days of my life. You were practically all I thought about. Sometimes I just opened the phone and set it on the bed, staring at the pictures I took of you. But no one is taking you away from me. Ever. So just get that out of that bleach blond head of yours, you hear me?"

Before Spike could do anything else, Dean caught him in an embrace and rolled them over so he was on top. He slowly traced over Spike's features with his fingers, almost as if he were blind and trying to imagine what his lover looked like. 

Spike moved his face, trying to kiss Dean's fingers, smiling against them. "Not that easy," he admitted, running his own hands up and down Dean's smooth bare back, exploring his broad shoulders and moving lower over the curve of his ass. "I'd rather meet the dawn then go through that again." Despite his seriousness, a small laugh bubbled out of him. The dawn couldn't hurt him anymore. 

"Meet the dawn?" Dean asked, furrowing his brow. "Ah, the sun. Guess that would be unpleasant. Or used to be." Leaning down, he gently kissed his lover. "Well, make it that easy, because you're my choice, got it, vampire? You're my plan for my destiny too."

Slowly he began kissing his way down Spike's jaw, then licked slowly up his neck before sucking a hickey along the side of it. One hand rubbed Spike's nipple, bringing it nicely firm and he gave it a light twist.

Arching up off the mattress, Spike gave a deep groan. "Right then, I'm never letting you go," he vowed, biting his lower lip as he felt Dean's mouth move to the tattoo he'd carved into his skin. Just like that, heat inched through his veins. "You're making it hard, hunter. Hard for me to keep still," he said thickly, his fingers digging into Dean's arse as he lifted his hips and showed Dean the truth of his statement. 

"I damned well better be making it hard," Dean murmured, smiling as he felt Spike's growing erection. "And letting me go isn't an option. I don't give that ring of mine to just anyone, you know."

Using his tongue he traced out the mark he had carved into Spike's shoulder. His mark. Cas would probably be a little pissed to see a demonic rune on Spike, especially if he knew Dean had put it there. He had a sudden desire for Spike to mark him in some way, to give him something that he could always see and look at and know. He knew he was Spike's but that tangible evidence seemed to thrill Spike, and he would like the same.

As Spike lifted up, he ground down against him. "I want you to mark me," he whispered in Spike's ear. "I marked your flesh. I see it and I know you're mine. Always. I want the same. Something permanent, something that's not going to go away." He nipped at Spike's ear then ran his tongue back down his neck. He needed to kiss Spike again, needed to taste him. Crushing their lips together he moaned deep in his throat as he rocked against his lover.

As Dean's velvety tongue invaded his mouth, Spike instinctively sucked on it, then curled his own around Dean's. A deep groan worked its way out of his throat as he lifted his hips, meeting Dean's thrust for thrust. He was so hard, so bloody hard, he could pound nails into that tree he'd had his lover up against. He squeezed Dean's arse, forcing him closer, aching for him so badly, wanting him so badly it took every last bit of his willpower to keep from tearing his lover's clothes off and taking him.

As they kissed and fucked against each other, thoughts of marking Dean, with his teeth and in ways that would leave his permanent mark tortured Spike. And it was all Dean's fault, for putting the thought in his head. Dean's tongue plundered his mouth, the rhythm emulating sex and setting Spike's blood on fire. When he felt Dean start to withdraw, he sucked hard on his tongue, preventing his lover from pulling away for a much needed breath, the moan of pleasure and pain from Dean pushing him that much closer to the edge.

When he broke the kiss, the sound of Dean's desperate gasp for air ratcheted up Spike's lust. He pushed Dean up, and started to undo his jeans, his eyes locked on his lover's face. Seeing hunger and need reflected back at him, Spike groaned and rolled them over, his hands already tugging Dean's jeans down. "Wanted to go slow, wanted to make love to you. Sodding hell, Dean, you make it impossible."

"Fast or slow, we always make love," Dean said, his eyes bright with laughter at Spike's words. Even when they took each other hard and fast, as far as Dean was concerned it was still love and not just sex. That idea seemed almost foreign to him, but not with Spike. Spike pulled feelings from him he thought he would never experience. "Besides, with three days, we'll eventually make it to slow," he said, lifting his hips to help Spike divest him of his pants. He leaned up and wrapped his arms around Spike's neck, pulling him back into a kiss. He just couldn't get enough of kissing Spike right now. "Want you to take me," he panted. "Want you to tie me up, blindfold me, hold me, possess me, take me. In any order you want," he said, crushing his lips against his lover's again. It had seemed like forever and he was as anxious as Spike to consummate their love again.

Spike had his own jeans only half way off when Dean dragged him back down. His words sent images pulsing through his brain, needs that demanded to be satisfied. Shoving his hand under Dean's head, he raised him up slightly for the dirtiest, neediest tongue fucking he could give, rocking urgently against him, moaning as he felt the wet trails Dean's cock was leaving against his stomach. Fucking hell, he wanted the hunter so many ways at once, it was burning him up.

Ripping his mouth away, Spike moved back and ripped his pants off, his gaze roving over his lover, lingering on his swollen cock. Dropping down, he sucked Dean's crown into his mouth, squeezing his lips tight around the ridge, loosening and tightening again. His hand closed around Dean's shaft and moved up and down, while he used the other to make sure Dean lay flat on his back. Pulling off, he squeezed his shaft as he flicked his tongue across the slit at the head of Dean's crown, then lowering his head, he licked a wet path up from the hunter's balls, along the underside of his shaft and right back to his head. 

Dean groaned as Spike worked his cock, frustrated that he couldn't sit up. He could only lift his head and look at what his lover did, watch as Spike took him in his mouth, played with him. He thrust up a little, his head falling back and his eyes squeezed closed.

Abruptly, Spike pulled away. "On your knees at the headboard. Hands behind your back," he said. "That's how I want you."

The suddenly loss of Spike's mouth on his rock hard cock drew a futile couple thrusts from Dean trying to find that mouth again until Spike's words sank in. He sat up now that Spike had released him and moved to the head of the bed. He put his arms behind him and looked back to see Spike pulling the belt from Dean's jeans. Heat flooded his body and he crossed his wrists, ready for Spike to wrap the leather around them. His whole body was tense with anticipation of finally having his lover in him, of riding the crest of pleasure together.

Spike quickly bound Dean's wrists together up high, in the middle of his back. As he pulled the strap through a loop and tugged, he heard Dean's indrawn breath and had to bite his lip. They were both past the point of debating anything and just needed to fuck. He scrambled off the bed but was back within seconds, looping a scarf over Dean's eyes, and pulling back as he knotted it. Groaning at the sight of his handiwork, he forced Dean's face to the side and kissed him hungrily, his rock hard cock jutting against Dean's ass.

Dean couldn't explain why he liked being at the mercy of the vampire, even knowing he wasn't in any danger. Maybe it was the trust, showing Spike the trust he had in him, the complete and utter faith that Spike would do anything for him. Maybe it harkened back to his time in Hell, a twisted part of his brain finding it needed pleasure to be associated with being bound, to help forget the agony of the rack. Whatever it was, when he felt Spike's cock he moaned into Spike's mouth as the vampire kissed him. 

Spike's mind was clouded with lust and need, but he forced himself to go through the motions. Pouring a generous amount of lube on his cock, he poured some more down Dean's ass crack. Looking down and grasping his own cock again, he tugged on it twice, then started to work his tip into Dean's hole, knowing Dean couldn't push back very easily without any support. "Want you so bad, want to be in you, want you screaming my name, hunter," he said thickly, a pained groan leaving him as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle and felt Dean's muscles close around him. "Fuck..."

Dean had to tense his muscles to stay upright as he felt Spike breach him. "Oh, God, Spike," Dean moaned, pushing back as best he could on the vampire's cock. "Feels so good, so right," he murmured, groaning more as he felt Spike slowly pushing inside him. "I'll be screaming your name," he promised. "Or Marshall's," he added.

"Oh you're going to pay for that," Spike threatened, gripping Dean's hip as he pushed in deeper, sliding all the way in and nipping the sensitive flesh of Dean's throat between his teeth once their bodies were slotted together. He held perfectly still, the pressure of Dean's tight muscles around his cock driving him insane with lust, with the need to move, to thrust. "So slick... so tight... God... to think you're mine," he said, closing an arm around Dean's waist and at the feel of Dean's hands now pressed into his own stomach, making a soft sound.

He grinned at Spike's 'threat.' Spike had started the whole inside joke in the first place...well, maybe Dean's jealousy had started it, he thought. 

When their bodies were pressed together it was so perfect, like two pieces of a puzzle always meant to be connected that never had been. Spike's teeth at his throat, even though they were of the dull human variety, still made him tilt his head, offering Spike his throat. He hated when Spike's teeth left him.

"I'm yours, vampire. Heart, body, soul," he groaned, unable to see anything but darkness. The hunter mentality made him use all his other senses, making every touch of Spike's that much more sensitive and noticed. Spike's scent of earth and cigarettes, leather and sex, surrounded him. The vampire's warm body pressed against his. The needy sounds whispering from Spike's lips, lips that had been pressed against his and he still tasted Spike's flavor in his mouth. 'Stroke me, fuck me," Dean whispered, almost demanding. 

"Yes... yes, I'm going to fuck you, fuck you so hard, Dean," Spike whispered, touching Dean's body, his hands moving possessively over his lover's chest and abs, his hips and thighs, moving slowly, thrusting his hips only a few inches, hardly pulling away from Dean and satisfying neither of them, though his promises grew more filthy. "Been waiting all day to spread you wide, to bend you over and shove my hard cock inside your tight hole. Do you feel me... this," he jerked his hips forward and bit Dean's shoulder, struggling to maintain control. "You're going to feel me for days as I split your hole open with my thick hard cock. When you sit, when you're driving, you're going to feel me, you're going to think of me pounding into your arse again and again, and that will get you wet and hard, just thinking about it." he whispered. "Going to fill you up so full my cum will pour down your legs... going to mark you from this inside, wipe away any other claim because you're mine... going to ..." he pressed his teeth into Dean's skin, "as I come... tell me you want it."

Dean pulled at the restraints, Spike's dirty talk making him moan, making him want to touch Spike the way Spike was touching him. The light in and out movement of Spike's cock was killing him, but Spike had him held and without his hands he had no leverage to push back. All he could do was clench again and again around his lover's cock and the words made his heart thunder in his chest with lust and desire. He gave out a small cry when Spike bit his shoulder. Spike's fangs, dammit he wanted to feel those fangs buried in his flesh.

"I want it," Dean said, his voice strained and husky. "I want it all. You fucking me, me screaming your name, your fangs buried deep in my throat. All of it."

Dean's reaction, the way he tightened his muscles mercilessly around his cock had Spike seeing white lights behind his eyelids. "Yes, yes, yes," he answered Dean, then dragged him down, pulling him onto his lap as he rocked back, still on his knees. "I'll give it to you, give you all of it," he promised, raising up and down, thrusting inside Dean, fucking him hard right from the start. Sometimes he pulled half way out, then slammed back inside, sometimes he merely pulsed, brushing his cock over Dean's prostate. He loved how Dean's muscles, his ass and thighs clenched and flexed. He loved the curses that broke out of him, knew Dean wanted to touch him, but did the opposite of what his lover wanted. 

If Dean managed to bring his mouth close, Spike merely licked it, or pushed only the tip of his tongue inside. When Dean pulled back, maybe pissed, Spike leaned in and plundered his mouth, kissing him within an inch of his life. He was doing well, maintaining his control until Dean clenched around him again. "Fuck," he groaned. It was like the brakes were off now, nothing could stop him from taking Dean the way he'd promised. Closing one hand around Dean's cock, he stroked to the same rhythm as he fucked, harder and harder, pistoning into his lover like a train that could not be stopped.

Dean rode Spike's cock, groaning as Spike pounded into him so hard it lifted him up each time. "Yes, fuck yes," he said and he tried to press down against that impaling cock. When Spike took his cock in his hand Dean bucked and moaned. He was leaking cum steadily, his balls tightening, readying themselves to spill their contents violently with just a little more coaxing from Spike. Dean's moans grew louder the closer he got to coming his brains out.

"No. Not yet," Spike demanded, gripping the base of Dean's cock and holding it tight despite his lover's struggles and desperate movements. Just like that, he kept both of them on the razor's edge for far longer than he thought he could. His mind was a haze of lust, his body a thousand pinpricks of aching desire, every nerve ending in his body driving him on, every cell urging him to come. He loosed his grip and started to say Dean's name, over and over as his balls tightened, pressing against his body. He stiffened, white hot heat flooding his body the same instant as he came hard inside Dean. He was still shouting Dean's name, still filling him with his hot come when he felt Dean start to arch and stiffen. 

"No." He spoke softly, but pinched the tip of Dean's cock off, making it impossible for the hunter to come, even as Spike moaned out his own release, fucking him slower as his tension eased.

Dean was so damned ready but Spike's hand around his cock had kept him writhing and in desperate need but he knew Spike was in the same condition. It was sweet torture for them both. Finally his cock was freed and he could tell from the change in Spike's voice, to the chanting of his name, to the tension in the vampire's body, that it was time. The heat that suddenly filled him, that sent liquid dripping down his leg as Spike had promised, was all it took, his body was ready when suddenly...Spike told him 'no' and kept him from coming while Spike rode out his own orgasm. 

"God dammit, Spike," Dean cried out, thrusting, wanting, trying to get Spike to let him finish. He clenched and wriggled on Spike's cock, pulled at his restraints until his arms ached, tried to get Spike to let him go. "Sonuvabitch," he swore. "Let me come, dammit," Dean cursed. 

"It's not how I want you," Spike answered, putting his hand on Dean's cheek to pull his face toward him, stroking his face in the process though he could tell Dean was in no mood to be soothed. "Not yet. Not until I say, yeah?" He brushed his lips against Dean's and could tell from his lover's refusal to instantly open his mouth that there was a good chance Dean would do whatever Dean wanted. "Don't come now, not if you want me to bite you," he said, his voice dropping down an octave as he released Dean's cock and helped him turn around. Leaning in, he slanted his mouth over Dean's and kissed him, more than aware of Dean's arousal pressing against his hip. "Not yet," he reminded, licking along his lover's throat as he untied his wrists.

Dean had spent years on the rack where he had learned not to come or be punished so severely it just wasn't worth the agony of not coming. He forced himself to hold back at Spike's words. This was Spike's game, his rules. That's how it worked between them. If that's what Spike wanted, that's what he would give him, no matter how much it killed him. The threat of refusing to bite Dean clenched the deal and he groaned out a 'yes' as Spike unfastened his wrists. His arms and shoulders ached from his struggles, but it was part of the pleasure/pain he wanted Spike to give him. Spike laid him back on the bed, the blindfold still on. Dean's cock was erect, red and swollen and ready to burst. It took all Dean's control not to reach down and finish himself off. 

"How do you want me," Dean rasped, aching with need. 

"How..." Spike's voice was a little shaky as he looked down at his needy lover, his cock jutting up and begging to be touched. "I want you the way I will always want you," Spike answered, straddling Dean's thighs and leaning over him, letting his cock graze Dean's as he kissed his lover's face. "Completely."

Licking his hand, he closed his fist around Dean's already wet cock and gently stroked up and down, biting his lip when he saw how his lightest touch had Dean shuddering, the muscles on his abs tensing and releasing. Lifting up once more, he bent over and licked Dean's nipple, then sucked on it hard, distracting him and whispering to keep him distracted as he walked a bit forward on his knees. He rocked back suddenly, guiding Dean's cock to his hole and slowly lowering himself, sucking his breath in, in anticipation of pain.

Every touch his lover gave him was almost torturous, but Spike's answer to his question wasn't what his Hell-trained mind expected. Something inside him seemed to melt away, some last bit of cold fear dissipating and turning to dust. _Completely._ He felt his eyes sting and knew if not for the blindfold, he might well be shedding tears. The word seemed to reverberate inside him, echo in his mind, and drive electric fire through his soul. _Completely._

He arched and moaned as Spike sucked on his nipple, clenching his fists. Spike had been stroking him, practically killing him, and his hand returned to Dean's cock. "Spike!" he shouted as his cock was suddenly sheathed inside his lover. Blinding light seemed to appear behind his eyelids and he arched up with the feel of the unexpected velvet cave he found his cock in, driving his cock further in. He clenched his hands in the sheets as he tossed his head back and forth in pure unadulterated pleasure. "Oh God, fuck, oh God," spewed from Dean and he couldn't help but pull out and shove back in. He felt Spike clench and unclench and that was all it took as he began to pump up into Spike, gasping and panting and cursing and saying his lover's name over and over again. Spike rode him hard, made him chase it and he did until he couldn't hold back even if Alistair were to be standing over him with a blade in hand.

"Spike!" he screamed, arching up into Spike, filling him with everything inside him, pumping his way through the orgasm and he arched and cried his lover's name again, a second jet of cum released into his lover.

Moaning, Spike kept riding Dean, clenching around him, squeezing him as he leaned in and shoved the scarf off Dean's eyes so he could look into their depths. In those unfocused eyes, he saw love and lust and pain and hope. A complicated man. A loyal man. Someone he could trust. Someone he would love with no reservations, not because he was unattainable, not because he was the holy grail or the perfect ideal, but because of his flaws, because of his scars, and because someone had to love the git since he didn't know how to love himself.

"Right here, I'm right here, always right here," he said, rubbing his mouth across Dean's. His heart was banging as hard as Dean's, like he was hearing Dean's in stereo. Smiling, he slowly pulled up, letting Dean slip out of him, then collapsed back down, rolling onto his side. "Good thing it was _my_ name you were shouting, or it might be Marshall I was telling... "I love you." 

Dean caressed Spike's cheek. "It'll always be your name I'll be shouting."

* * * 

All the way to the tattoo parlor, Spike wore a smirk as Dean complained about the various places his body ached. They'd put the 'do not disturb' sign up and had sex, slept, brought food in and had more sex for three days straight. It was a good thing their time had run out or one of them might have ended up injured, or so Spike said. Surprise morning sex put him into a good mood and he'd even joked that a dick up his arse was much better than a dagger in his back. Once, that would have ruined the mood and sent Dean brooding, but Dean only tossed back that Spike loved it when he used a knife on him and they both knew it. Since Dean hadn't had any bad dreams or sleep walking incidents that he hadn't woken himself up from, he was much more confident that he wouldn't inadvertently hurt his lover and could joke about such things now. 

Now Spike was watching Dean get his tattoo and making sure the blindfolded hunter didn't get a sneak peek. The artist had copied the outline of the drawing onto his chest just below the right clavicle near his arm. Spike had the artist move it and adjust its size until he was satisfied, then looked on while the artist began to ink it in black. The artist had to be reassured that Dean was fine with being blindfolded and with whatever Spike picked out. 

Dean sat in the chair listening to the hum of the tattoo machine. He could tell that the tattoo was long and narrow, maybe even cross like and found that idea amusing, that a vampire would choose a cross. At the same time, he wasn't certain he wanted a cross on his chest considering he was dealing with angels and the whole God has work for you crap. He said he would trust Spike with whatever symbol he wanted to mark him with and so he would, ignoring Spike's teasing about choosing a 'lovely teddy bear,' or 'cutesy little kitten with hearts around it.' They had only debated briefly as to where to put it. The chest or back was the most logical place as putting it on the arm or leg would increase the chance of it being seen. Identifying marks were bad for hunters. Dean insisted on the chest because he wanted to be able to see it, to look at it every morning and know it meant he was Spike's and Spike was his.

All said and done, the tattoo took about an hour. When it was finally completed, Dean sat up and pulled off the blindfold and looked down. It looked tribal in flavor, sort of like a dagger, sort of like a cross, but could tell it wasn't really either of those. He had to admit, he liked it. A lot. He looked up at Spike curiously and waited for an explanation for the choice. He wanted to know what it meant to Spike and why Spike had chosen it.

If Spike had needed to breathe, he'd have been holding his as he watched Dean's reaction to seeing _his mark_ for the first time. "I thought the heart shaped lips with fangs catching an arrow between them would be too obvious," he said, a little nervous.

Dean smirked and stood up, pulling Spike into his arms. "Ya think? I like it. So why'd you chose it?"

Spike hardly noticed the artist retreating to the back room. "It's an ankh. It stands for many things. Eternity. Sanctuary. Life." He slid his knuckles down along Dean's face. "Protection. Everything I would give you until I'm no more."

"Let's cut out that 'no more' crap. You are going to be around for a long, long time. And not would. Will." He kissed Spike thoroughly. "Okay, I don't just like it, I love it."

The artist returned, but gave both men a look that said he wasn't real thrilled to have some gay lovers in his shop. "You need ointment on it," he told Dean and smeared some antibiotic ointment over it and then bandaged it. He handed him a sheet that gave 'after care' instructions for taking care of it while it healed.

"Thanks," Dean said. He glanced at Spike before putting his arm over his shoulder as he stuffed the sheet in his back pocket. Leading him out of the shop he said, "You know, me and Sam were always being mistaken for being a couple. I gotta admit, it's gonna take some time for me to get used to the 'looks' now that you and I are together. Not that I give a damned what anyone else thinks."

"Good. Maybe we'll be lucky and get more than looks. Wouldn't mind kicking some non-demon arse once in a while." They reached the car and he leaned over its rooftop. "I want to make love to you in front of a mirror." His gaze went to Dean's now covered up chest. "When do you think we'll have the chance?" Tugging the door open, he sat in the passenger seat, trying not to laugh. Now that he'd put the thought into the hunter's head, he was sure Dean would be thinking on it until he made it happen. 

Dean stared at Spike a moment, the thought of a mirror above them or surrounding them now firmly stuck in his mind. "You're fucking evil," he growled as he slid behind the steering wheel. "We'll look for a motel where you pay by the hour when we hit Cleveland. We can find one there, I'm sure." He shifted trying to get himself comfortable. Damn he ached. "You know, you could at least have the decency to pretend to be sore," he said as he slid in a tape. Pulling out of the lot, he headed toward Bobby's to pick up Sam.

"I am sore." Spike picked up Dean's hand and put it over his groin. "Very sore. Happy?" Releasing Dean's hand, he looked out the window, biting his lip to prevent a laugh though his shoulders shook a little.

"My ass," Dean grumbled, giving Spike's cock a good squeeze and grope. You know, maybe we'll find a place with mirrors on the way to Bobby's...." 

That had Spike's head snapping right around. "You'd best not be joking, Hunter." His lover's smirk was not quite the reassurance he was looking for. 

Turning up the music, Dean began singing along with it and stepped on the gas pedal.

 

THE END


End file.
